The wall on which the prophets wrote
 Is cracking at the seams.
 Upon the instruments of death
 The sunlight brightly gleams.
 When every man is torn apart
 With nightmares and with dreams,
 Will no one lay the laurel wreath
 When silence drowns the screams.
 
 Confusion will be my epitaph.
 As I crawl a cracked and broken path
 If we make it we can all sit back
 and laugh.
 But I fear tomorrow I'll be crying,
 Yes I fear tomorrow I'll be crying.
 
 Between the iron gates of fate,
 The seeds of time were sown,
 And watered by the deeds of those
 Who know and who are known;
 Knowledge is a deadly friend
 If no one sets the rules.
 The fate of all mankind I see
 Is in the hands of fools.
 
 Confusion will be my epitaph.
 As I crawl a cracked and broken path
 If we make it we can all sit back
 and laugh.
 But I fear tomorrow I'll be crying,
 Yes I fear tomorrow I'll be crying.