It is the mind, which creates the world about us And even though we stand side by side My eyes will never see what is beheld by yours My heart wont respond to your touch Out of the caverns of the pain Like a child from the womb, stillborn Like a ghost from the tomb I arise and unbuild it again We dont see things as they are We see them as we are And all that we see or seem to be Is but a dream within a dream I see life blurred and shallow every day by day In this worlds theatre in which I stay Three Death gently descends, from spheres up high Staring into my cold and humid eyes Youre closing your eyes, try turning your head Away from the gloom, trying to forget But when I start to laugh, she mocks And when I cry she laughs... And hardens evermore her heart But when I start to laugh, she mocks And when I cry she laughs... All things come to the those who wait I say these words to make me glad But something answers, soft and sad They come... but often come too late Three Death gently descends, from spheres up high Staring into my cold and humid eyes Youre closing your eyes, try turning your head Away from the gloom, trying to forget But something answers, soft and sad They come... but often come too late Cause I am sick of this way of life As life is sick of the way we pretend But I have walked with Death hand in hand And Deaths own hand is warmer than my own! All things come to those who wait I say these words to make me glad But something answers, soft and sad They come... but often come too late
laugh, often, soft, humid, sad