I alone upon the highest cliff-top, down, around, and all that I could see were those I would dearly love to share with on quite blindly to the sea.... I tried to ask what this was, but knew I would not it: the voice, as one, as no-one, to me.... 'We have upon the heroes and are found wanting; we have looked hard the land, but we can see no we have now dared to the sky, but we are bleeding; we are near 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, it's far too late to bow to convention. What course is left but to die? We have upon the High Kings, found them than mortals: their are dust before the just of our young, new law. Minds strong, we hurtle on the dark portal; No-one can our final vault into the maw. And as the Elders their brows know that it is far too late now to stop us. For if the sky is seeded what is the point in breath?...Expel it! What cause is there but to die in search of something not quite sure of?' What cause is there but to die? What cause is there but to die? cause is there left but to die? ...I really know why... I know our may be soon but why do you make sooner? Time may finally only the living her and no life in the quicksand. Yes I it's Out of control, out of Greasy machinery on the rails, minds and bodies on steel spokes impaled.... Cogs tearing bones, cogs bones: Iron-throated monsters are our screams, Mind and box-press the dreams. ...but still is time... are they who run today, the is beginning... no war with knives, fight our lives, lemmings can nothing; death offers no hope, we must for the unknown unite our blood, the flood, the disaster... there's other ways screaming in the mob: that makes us cogs of hatred. to the why and where we are, look to yourselves and the and in the end What choice is left but to live in the hope of our children's little ones? What choice is there but to What choice is there but to What choice is there but to to the little ones? What choice is there left but to