Th e wall on which the prophets wrote
Is cracking at the seams.
Upon the inst ruments of death
The sunlight brightly gleams.
When every man is torn apart
With nightmares and with dreams,
Will no one lay the laurel wreath
When silence drowns the screams.
Confusion will be my epitaph.
As I crawl a cracked and broken path
If we make it we can all sit back and laugh.
But I fear tomorrow I'll be crying
Yes I fear tomorrow I'll be crying
Yes I fear tomorrow I'll be crying
Be tween the iron gates of fate,
The seeds of time were sown,
And watered by the deeds of those
Who know and w ho are known;
Knowledge is a deadly friend
If no one sets the rules.
The fate of all m ankind I see
Is in the hands of fool s.
(Instrumental)
The w all on which the prophets wrote
Is cracking at the seams.
Upon the i nstruments of death
The sunlight brightly gleams.
When every man is torn apart
With nightmares and with dreams,
Will no one lay the laurel wreath
When silence drowns the screams.
Confusion will be my epitaph.
As I crawl a cracked and broken path
If we make it we can all sit back and laugh.
But I fear tomorrow I'll be crying
Yes I fear tomorrow I'll be crying