A passage
A funeral for the living
Born from coincidence
To the death of dreams

Before the final cut
Speculating about the extended version of life
A fault in existence
Philosophy in the wildlife

We let it recur
With the law of lion
Veins driven dry
Splitting the Sun for the poles apart

And never come back
For what has happened
Sorrow is mute
In solo, in choir

The same heart beats
In a soul and a machine
All virtues belied
On the Sunday of our life

Platitudes to declarations
In the cradle of cleanness a bird of prey
Follow the living to the edge of a trench
A single legionnaire to prevent the massacre

Unavoidable recurrence
Until the voice breaks illusion