Every step that we tread
The dead are behind us
Throwing shadows out over our heads
And they live far in front of us
No oceans left to cross
No mountains left to climb
'Cause that's what I've been told
And it's got so hard to look around
And see just who can save you
If you don't have a pot of gold
Was there ever a time
Like this?
As the noise of the past
Builds up into a crescendo
The layers of rubbish makes their plea
Amplified a million times or more
But our heads just can't cope as we fall
Into the arms of the waiting mystics
Books burning, barrels turning
A billion wasted futures light up the night sky
Small hopes flash past the [unverified]
While foreign forces wait and pray
And a fear of the future is so deep in our hearts
That they'll all but destroy ourselves
Like the centuries old feuds
Being updated with high tech weapons
In the end, it's not the future
But the past that'll get us
I always believed [unverified] like this cost lives
That's why I was always in line for the sacrifice
But now my eyes point ahead
Away from the ghosts of the dead
Writer(s): Ian Crause, Robert Whatley, Paul Wilmott
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