We belief in something bigger than ourselves,
But when we momentarily find our way around this maze,
We forget it all.
Why is it that on a summer night,
As we're gazing up into the stars,
We "know" there's a foolish man, living in the sky,
Quietly listening to our every cry.
Maybe one day when the mirror breaks and the black crow sings,
Like candles when burntout, our eyes will see nothing,
And we'll only come back to life when in the night, someone whispers our name,
Maybe you and I will never be here again.
Maybe one day when the mirror breaks and the black crow sings,
And we slowly flote away with the soft and calm ocean wind,
We'll feel the soothing touch of a loving hand,
And we'll hear the gentle whisper of the wisest man.
Why is it that we can't feel the warmth of faith,
In the deepest and most hidden corners of our soul,
Why is it that when in the darkest place,
We can only feel the numbing cold.
Maybe one day when the mirror breaks and the black crow sings,
Like candles when burntout our eyes will see nothing,
And we'll only come back to life when in the night, someone whispers our name,
Maybe you and I will never be here again.
So my friend there's nothing for us to do but fly,
Live in the clouds above, way up high.
'Fore it's time to get off this ride.
