He looks up at the everlasting white pole.
He raises his fists against the heavenly soul.
He often looks back and sets his foot on the riddle.
A sweet bed called despair.
Closing my eyes, I can end my flare
In the arms of nocturne.
He hopes to be over.
Unsatisfied tumbling wheel.
He hopes to be over.
Born to be so, he's promised man.
He finds out himself high up in the sky.
Then he finds out he is still on land the dry.
He looks like madmen and throws himself into the stained glass.
A pale lure called reverie
Closing my eyes, I can end my jubilee
In the everlasting spiral.
He hopes to be over.
Unsatisfied tumbling wheel.
He hopes to be over.
Born to be so, he's promised man.
Riddle of the god's sake.
Drill the sacred base.
Middle of lord's lake.
Grill your board and bake
He was lonely in the desert land in limbo
He hoped only to be over
The tower of Babel fell down and vanish in smoke
The crack of doom
There are no tombs
He hopes to be over.
Unsatisfied tumbling wheel.
He hopes to be over.
Born to be so, he's promised man.