I stood alone upon the cliff-top, down, around, and all that I could see were those that I dearly love to share with on quite blindly to the sea.... I tried to ask what game was, but knew I would not it: the voice, as one, as no-one, to me.... 'We have looked the heroes and they are found 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, there is no except to go forward. Don't ask us for an now, far too late to bow to that convention. What course is left but to die? We looked upon the High Kings, found them less than their are dust before the just of our young, new law. Minds stumbling strong, we on the dark portal; No-one can halt our final into the 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 in catching breath?...Expel it! What cause is left but to die in search of something we're not quite of?' What is there left but to die? What cause is there left but to What cause is left but to die? ...I really know why... I know our may be soon but why do you make sooner? Time may prove only the living her and no lies in the quicksand. Yes I know Out of control, out of Greasy slides on the rails, Young and bodies on steel spokes impaled.... tearing bones, cogs tearing bones: Iron-throated monsters are our screams, Mind and machinery the dreams. ...but there is time... are they who run today, the is beginning... no war with knives, fight our lives, lemmings can nothing; offers no hope, we must grope for the unknown unite our blood, the flood, the disaster... there's other than screaming in the mob: makes us merely cogs of hatred. Look to the why and we are, look to yourselves and the and in the end choice is there left but to live in the of saving our children's little ones? What is there but to live? What is there but to live? What is there but to live? to save the little What choice is there left but to