What a wonderous piece of work is man
To create a perfect utopian land
He destroys those things he cannot see
Why is he realted to me
...
The road is a lonely place at night
It’s just me, the stars and the pale moonlight
My thoughts are my own as I run the gears
Thinking of you and us all these years
...
Strangely cold within the grave
We envision brilliant dreams among the fire
...
The night falls with a silent sigh, cold and alone are we the forgotten.
We are the light for which you lust
...
Man Child
What a wonderous piece of work is man
To create a perfect utopian land
He destroys those things he cannot see
Why is he realted to me
He kills his own because fo color and race
He seeks to abolish a religeous race
He wants it all and all for him
His flame of existence grows ever dim