I stood alone upon the cliff-top, looked down, around, and all that I see were those that I would dearly love to share crashing on blindly to the sea.... I to ask what game this was, but knew I not play it: the voice, as one, as no-one, to me.... 'We have looked upon the and they are found we have looked across the land, but we can see no we now dared to sear the sky, but we are bleeding; we are drawing to the cliffs, now we can the call. The clouds are in mountain-shapes, is no escape except to go forward. Don't ask us for an now, far too late to bow to that convention. What course is there left but to We have upon the High Kings, them less than mortals: their names are before the just of our young, new law. Minds strong, we hurtle on into the dark No-one can halt our vault the unknown maw. And as the Elders their brows know it is really far too late now to stop us. For if the sky is death what is the point in breath?...Expel it! cause is there left but to die in search of we're not quite sure of?' What cause is there left but to cause is there left but to die? What cause is there left but to ...I really don't why... I know our ends may be but why do you them sooner? Time may prove only the living her and no lies in the quicksand. Yes I it's Out of control, out of Greasy slides on the rails, Young minds and on steel spokes impaled.... Cogs tearing bones, cogs bones: Iron-throated are forcing our screams, Mind and box-press the dreams. ...but there is time... are they who run today, the is beginning... no war with knives, fight our lives, can teach nothing; death no hope, we must grope for the unknown unite our blood, the flood, the disaster... there's other ways screaming in the mob: that us merely cogs of hatred. Look to the why and we are, look to yourselves and the and in the end What choice is there left but to in the hope of our children's little ones? What choice is there but to What choice is but to live? What is there but to live? to save the ones? What choice is there but to try?