Breathe. Its story is old, though you are not sure what it is. Around you is a world in which we are afraid to live. The quietude of the mountains carved out of stone Gives way to a neon sky.
The floor is rifted like a great earthen cask under the weight of our existence. For once the horizon is truthful. There will be more, and there will be nothing more. New is the name we give to unconscious dreams. Hope is found in the still wind That tells us there is nothing more. Cease your striving.
Wandering thunder is a minstrel without an audience. It doesn't seem to mind. Rain falls, rainclouds fade, and the world passes us by. We are utterly alone. The meaning of that brings us peace...
[00:40.12]Breathe. [00:44.54]Its story is old, though you are not sure what it is. [00:51.37]Around you is a world in which we are afraid to live. [00:57.92]The quietude of the mountains carved out of stone [01:01.39]Gives way to a neon sky. [01:04.71] [01:06.60]The floor is rifted like a great earthen cask [01:09.14]under the weight of our existence. [01:12.51]For once the horizon is truthful. [01:16.05]There will be more, [01:17.29]and there will be nothing more. [01:20.50]New is the name we give to unconscious dreams. [01:24.72]Hope is found in the still wind [01:27.49]That tells us there is nothing more. [01:31.03]Cease your striving. [01:32.60] [01:35.23]Wandering thunder is a minstrel without an audience. [01:39.04]It doesn't seem to mind. [01:42.24]Rain falls, rainclouds fade, and the world passes us by. [01:48.79]We are utterly alone. [01:52.22]The meaning of that brings us peace...
