The race was won, the race was lost.
it's not a sprint it's a marathon,
we must survive at all cost.
The whispering, the cold dead sights
its cruel mistress forgetting,
its lover, forgetting it's child.
interjections are lost and found,
from the streets to the underground.
A passing thought, a passing glance,
forget apprehension remember we all have a chance.
to save ourselves, to save our hearts.
From the plight of rejection we'll never be stronger apart.
interjections are lost and found,
from the streets to the underground.
As the night draws in and the moon hangs high.
Two lovers descend and wait 'til the morning light.
As the tree tops flirt with horizon lines,
wrapped up tight in each other, 'til the morning light.
