Tearing down the monument That’s been a sign of what you stand for The stones it’s made from are too old to survive this The future years in icy rain When we’ll be gone
You bear the torment sometimes Hardly trusting yourself, sometimes Standing motionless sometimes, when the fury takes control Pretending glory for the blind, sometimes
Diving through an underpass Running fast between the raindrops Tracking down your intuition Inverting words that we believed And we are gone
