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A father said to his son |
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"you should be waking up. Your salvation is here, your eyes will open up |
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All the times that I said you wouldn't understand, I meant them" |
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Wait forever to see the child locked inside everybody is free there is no need to hide |
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To deceive is to flee from the opened eye |
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So just turn around to face the pale sun |
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Sweeped across the silent morning |
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Shades of grey they won't wait for no one |
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So just turn around to face the pale sun |
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"to boast the sudden conquest of a foreign land to snuff the silver wasp |
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To waste the gifts of man and all the things that I said you didn't understand." said sir hexagram |
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So the son set out to find the twisting fan |
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Lifted from the bones lifted from the sand |
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Perched upon a gate he waits with bird in hand. |
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So just turn around to face the pale sun |
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Sweeped across the silent morning |
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Shades of grey they won't wait for no one |
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So just turn around to face the pale sun |
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Cause we've heard rumors of new worlds forming |
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But we, place our selves with in the plot of the free and clearer mind where the light is caught |
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So just turn around to face the pale sun |
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Sweeped across the silent morning |
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Shades of grey they won't wait for no one |
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So just turn around to face the pale sun |
