I stood alone upon the cliff-top, down, around, and all that I could see were those that I would dearly to share with crashing on quite to the sea.... I tried to ask what this was, but I would not play it: the voice, as one, as no-one, to me.... 'We have looked the heroes and they are wanting; we have hard across 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 are piled in mountain-shapes, there is no escape to go forward. Don't ask us for an now, it's far too to bow to that convention. course is there left but to die? We looked upon the High Kings, them less than mortals: their names are dust before the of our young, new law. Minds stumbling strong, we on into the portal; No-one can halt our vault into the maw. And as the Elders beat their know that it is far too late now to stop us. For if the sky is death what is the in catching breath?...Expel it! What cause is left but to die in search of something we're not quite of?' What cause is left but to die? What cause is there left but to What cause is there but to die? ...I really don't why... I know our ends may be but why do you make them Time may finally only the living her and no life in the quicksand. Yes I know Out of control, out of Greasy machinery on the rails, Young minds and bodies on spokes impaled.... Cogs tearing bones, cogs tearing monsters are forcing our screams, Mind and box-press the dreams. ...but still is time... are they who run today, the is beginning... no war with knives, with our lives, lemmings can teach death no hope, we must grope for the answer: our blood, abate the flood, the disaster... there's other ways than screaming in the that makes us cogs of hatred. Look to the why and we are, look to and the stars and in the end What choice is there but to live in the hope of our children's children's little What is there but to live? What is there but to live? What is there but to live? to the little ones? choice is there left but to try?