I stood alone upon the cliff-top, looked down, around, and all I could see those that I would dearly love to share with crashing on quite 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 upon the and they are 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, there is no escape to go forward. ask us for an answer now, it's far too to bow to that convention. What course is there left but to We have looked the High Kings, found them less mortals: their names are before the just of our young, new law. Minds strong, we hurtle on into the portal; No-one can halt our vault into the maw. And as the Elders their brows know that it is really far too now to stop us. For if the sky is death what is the point in breath?...Expel it! What is there left but to die in of something we're not quite sure of?' What cause is left but to die? What cause is there left but to What cause is left but to die? ...I really don't why... I know our may be soon but why do you make them Time may finally only the move her and no life in the quicksand. Yes I it's Out of control, out of Greasy slides on the rails, Young minds and bodies on steel impaled.... Cogs tearing bones, cogs tearing 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, with our lives, lemmings can nothing; death offers no hope, we grope for the answer: our blood, abate the flood, the disaster... there's ways than screaming in the mob: that makes us merely of hatred. to the why and where we are, look to yourselves and the and in the end choice is there left but to live in the hope of our children's children's little What is there but to live? What choice is but to live? choice is there but to live? to save the ones? What is there left but to try?