The sky is bright

But the Stars are cold

Like eyes, they twinkle

Ancient and old

Looking down on the Earth far below

They watch and wait,

And what’s more, they know

They look down, older than time

Staring at me

Hearing the phantom calls of the organ,

And the soft murmur of the church choir,

Awakened from sleep with a feeling she couldn’t describe,

She got out of bed and followed it outside.

A careful mist lay over her small town, a light shield of protection.

A lonely man sits on the side of the road

He sings a song,

La, la, la.

He stops, silence.

Red, green, yellow, red, green, yellow

The light keeps turning

Over and over

But no one is in sight, besides the lonely man

Daring to yearn for freedom as

the doors of your prison open

the view of white death before you

all of your small hopes broken

standing in a door between hell’s

cold fingers brush your skin

beautiful death covers the hills