| Disc 1 | ||||||
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| 2. |
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| 3. |
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I. STONES OF YEARS
Has the dawn ever seen your eyes? Have the days made you so unwise? Realize, you are. Had you talked to the winds of time, Then you'd know how the water rhyme. Taste of wine, How can you know where you've been? In time you'll see the sign, And realize your sin. Will you know how the seed is sown? All your time has been overgrown, Never known. Have you walked on the stones of years? When you speak, is it you that hears? Are your ears full? You can't hear anything at all. II. MASS The preacher said a prayer, Save ev'ry single hair on his head. He's dead. The minister of hate had just arrived too late to be spared. Who cared? The weaver in the web that he made! The pilgrim wandered in, Commiting ev'ry sin that he could So good... The cardinal of grief was set in his belief he'd saved From the grave The weaver in the web that he made! The high priest took a blade To bless the ones that prayed, And all obeyed. The messenger of fear is slowly growing, nearer to the time, A sign. The weaver in the web that he made! A Bishop rings a bell, A cloak of darkness fell across the ground, Without a sound! The silent choir sing and in their silence, Bring jaded sound, harmonic ground. The weaver in the web that he made! III. BATTLEFIELD Clear the battlefield and let me see All the profit from our victory. You talk of freedom, starving children fall. Are you deaf when you hear the season's call? Were you there to watch the earth be scorched? Did you stand beside the spectral torch? Know the leaves of sorrow turned their face, Scattered on the ashes of disgrace. Every blade is sharp; the arrows fly We're the victims of your armies lie, Where the blades of grass and arrows rain Then there will be no sorrow, Be no pain |
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| Disc 2 | ||||||
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Just a step, cried the sad man,
Take a look down at the madman. Bearded kings on silver wings Fly beyond reason. From the flight of the seagull, Come the spread claws of the eagle Only fear breaks the silence, As we all kneel, pray for guidance. Tread the room, cross the abyss, Take a look down at the madness. On the streets of the city, Only spectres still have pity. Patient queues for the gallows, Sing the praises of the hallows. Our machines feed the furnace, If they take us, they will burn us. Will you still know who you are When you come to who you are? When the flames have their season Will you hold to your reason? Will you die with your chance? Can you still keep your balance? Can you wake from the nightmare? |
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| 2. |
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| 3. |
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| 4. |
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| Disc 3 | ||||||
| 1. |
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| 2. |
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I. STONES OF YEARS
Has the dawn ever seen your eyes? Have the days made you so unwise? Realize, you are. Had you talked to the winds of time, Then you'd know how the water rhyme. Taste of wine, How can you know where you've been? In time you'll see the sign, And realize your sin. Will you know how the seed is sown? All your time has been overgrown, Never known. Have you walked on the stones of years? When you speak, is it you that hears? Are your ears full? You can't hear anything at all. II. MASS The preacher said a prayer, Save ev'ry single hair on his head. He's dead. The minister of hate had just arrived too late to be spared. Who cared? The weaver in the web that he made! The pilgrim wandered in, Commiting ev'ry sin that he could So good... The cardinal of grief was set in his belief he'd saved From the grave The weaver in the web that he made! The high priest took a blade To bless the ones that prayed, And all obeyed. The messenger of fear is slowly growing, nearer to the time, A sign. The weaver in the web that he made! A Bishop rings a bell, A cloak of darkness fell across the ground, Without a sound! The silent choir sing and in their silence, Bring jaded sound, harmonic ground. The weaver in the web that he made! III. BATTLEFIELD Clear the battlefield and let me see All the profit from our victory. You talk of freedom, starving children fall. Are you deaf when you hear the season's call? Were you there to watch the earth be scorched? Did you stand beside the spectral torch? Know the leaves of sorrow turned their face, Scattered on the ashes of disgrace. Every blade is sharp; the arrows fly We're the victims of your armies lie, Where the blades of grass and arrows rain Then there will be no sorrow, Be no pain |
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| 3. |
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Just take a pebble and cast it to the sea,
Then watch the ripples that unfold into me, My face spill so gently into your eyes, Disturbing the waters of our lives. Shread of our memories are lying on your grass; Wounded words of laughter are graveyards of the past. Photographs are grey and torn, scattered in your fields Letters of your mem'ries are not real. Sadness on your shoulders like a wornout overcoat In pockets creased and tattered hang the rags of your hope. The daybreak is your midnight; the colours have all died. Disturbing the waters of our lives, of our lives, of our lives, lives, lives, lives... Of our lives. |
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He had white horses
And ladies by the score All dressed in satin And waiting by the door Ooooh, what a lucky man he was Ooooh, what a lucky man he was White lace and feathers They made up his bed A gold covered mattress On which he was laid Ooooh, what a lucky man he was Ooooh, what a lucky man he was He went to fight wars For his country and his king Of his honor and his glory The people would sing Ooooh, what a lucky man he was Ooooh, what a lucky man he was A bullet had found him His blood ran as he cried No money could save him So he laid down and he died Ooooh, what a lucky man he was Ooooh, what a lucky man he was |
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| 5. |
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| Disc 4 | ||||||
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| 2. |
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Lead me from tortured dreams
Childhood themes of nights alone, Wipe away endless years, Childhood tears as dry as stone. From seeds of confusion, Illusions darks blossoms have grown. Even now in furrows of sorrow The dance still is sung. My life's course is guided Decided by limits drawn On charts of my past days And pathways since I was born. I carry the dust of a journey That cannot be shaken away It lives deep within me For I breathe it every day. You and I are yesterday's answers, The earth of the past came to flesh, Eroded by Time's rivers To the shapes we now possess. Come share of my breath and my substance, And mingle our stream and our times. In bright, infinite moments, Our reasons are lost in our rhymes. Doubles faces dark defense Talk too loud but talk no sense Yeah I see those smiling eyes Butter us up with smiling lies Talk to creatures raise the dead Fate you know sure got fed Trained apart from houses of stone Hour of horses pick the bone Come forth, from love spire Born in life's fire, Born in life's fire. Come forth, from love's spire In the burning, all are yearning, For life to be. And the pain will (must) be gain, New life! Stirring in, salty streams And dark hidden seams Where the fossil sun gleams. They were, sent from (to) the gates Ride the tides of fate, Ride the tides of fate. They were, sent from (to) the gates In the burning of our yearning, For life to be. There's no end to my life, No beginning to my death Death is life! |
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| 3. |
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| 4. |
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| Disc 5 | ||||||
| 1. |
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I. STONES OF YEARS
Has the dawn ever seen your eyes? Have the days made you so unwise? Realize, you are. Had you talked to the winds of time, Then you'd know how the water rhyme. Taste of wine, How can you know where you've been? In time you'll see the sign, And realize your sin. Will you know how the seed is sown? All your time has been overgrown, Never known. Have you walked on the stones of years? When you speak, is it you that hears? Are your ears full? You can't hear anything at all. II. MASS The preacher said a prayer, Save ev'ry single hair on his head. He's dead. The minister of hate had just arrived too late to be spared. Who cared? The weaver in the web that he made! The pilgrim wandered in, Commiting ev'ry sin that he could So good... The cardinal of grief was set in his belief he'd saved From the grave The weaver in the web that he made! The high priest took a blade To bless the ones that prayed, And all obeyed. The messenger of fear is slowly growing, nearer to the time, A sign. The weaver in the web that he made! A Bishop rings a bell, A cloak of darkness fell across the ground, Without a sound! The silent choir sing and in their silence, Bring jaded sound, harmonic ground. The weaver in the web that he made! III. BATTLEFIELD Clear the battlefield and let me see All the profit from our victory. You talk of freedom, starving children fall. Are you deaf when you hear the season's call? Were you there to watch the earth be scorched? Did you stand beside the spectral torch? Know the leaves of sorrow turned their face, Scattered on the ashes of disgrace. Every blade is sharp; the arrows fly We're the victims of your armies lie, Where the blades of grass and arrows rain Then there will be no sorrow, Be no pain |
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| 2. |
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Why do you stare Do you think that i care? You've been mislead By the thoughts in your head Your words waste and decay Nothing you say Reaches my ears anyway You never spoke a word of truth Why do you think I believe what you said Few of your words Ever enter my head I'm tired of liver for freaks? With tongues in their cheeks Turning their eyes as they speak They make me sick and tired Are you confused To the point in your mind Though you're blind Can't you see you're wrong Won't you refuse To be used Even though you may know I can see you're wrong Please, please, please open their eyes Please, please, please don't give me lies I loon? all of the earth Witness my birth Cried at the sight of a man And still i don't know who i am (chorus) I've seen paupers as kings Puppets on strings Dance for the children who stare You must have seen them everywhere |
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| 3. |
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| 4. |
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Just take a pebble and cast it to the sea,
Then watch the ripples that unfold into me, My face spill so gently into your eyes, Disturbing the waters of our lives. Shread of our memories are lying on your grass; Wounded words of laughter are graveyards of the past. Photographs are grey and torn, scattered in your fields Letters of your mem'ries are not real. Sadness on your shoulders like a wornout overcoat In pockets creased and tattered hang the rags of your hope. The daybreak is your midnight; the colours have all died. Disturbing the waters of our lives, of our lives, of our lives, lives, lives, lives... Of our lives. |
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| Disc 6 | ||||||
| 1. |
| - |
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Just take a pebble and cast it to the sea,
Then watch the ripples that unfold into me, My face spill so gently into your eyes, Disturbing the waters of our lives. Shread of our memories are lying on your grass; Wounded words of laughter are graveyards of the past. Photographs are grey and torn, scattered in your fields Letters of your mem'ries are not real. Sadness on your shoulders like a wornout overcoat In pockets creased and tattered hang the rags of your hope. The daybreak is your midnight; the colours have all died. Disturbing the waters of our lives, of our lives, of our lives, lives, lives, lives... Of our lives. |
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| 2. |
| - |
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Lead me from tortured dreams
Childhood themes of nights alone, Wipe away endless years, Childhood tears as dry as stone. From seeds of confusion, Illusions darks blossoms have grown. Even now in furrows of sorrow The dance still is sung. My life's course is guided Decided by limits drawn On charts of my past days And pathways since I was born. I carry the dust of a journey That cannot be shaken away It lives deep within me For I breathe it every day. You and I are yesterday's answers, The earth of the past came to flesh, Eroded by Time's rivers To the shapes we now possess. Come share of my breath and my substance, And mingle our stream and our times. In bright, infinite moments, Our reasons are lost in our rhymes. Doubles faces dark defense Talk too loud but talk no sense Yeah I see those smiling eyes Butter us up with smiling lies Talk to creatures raise the dead Fate you know sure got fed Trained apart from houses of stone Hour of horses pick the bone Come forth, from love spire Born in life's fire, Born in life's fire. Come forth, from love's spire In the burning, all are yearning, For life to be. And the pain will (must) be gain, New life! Stirring in, salty streams And dark hidden seams Where the fossil sun gleams. They were, sent from (to) the gates Ride the tides of fate, Ride the tides of fate. They were, sent from (to) the gates In the burning of our yearning, For life to be. There's no end to my life, No beginning to my death Death is life! |
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| 3. |
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| 4. |
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| Disc 7 | ||||||
| 1. |
| - |
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Just take a pebble and cast it to the sea,
Then watch the ripples that unfold into me, My face spill so gently into your eyes, Disturbing the waters of our lives. Shread of our memories are lying on your grass; Wounded words of laughter are graveyards of the past. Photographs are grey and torn, scattered in your fields Letters of your mem'ries are not real. Sadness on your shoulders like a wornout overcoat In pockets creased and tattered hang the rags of your hope. The daybreak is your midnight; the colours have all died. Disturbing the waters of our lives, of our lives, of our lives, lives, lives, lives... Of our lives. |
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| 2. |
| - |
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I. STONES OF YEARS
Has the dawn ever seen your eyes? Have the days made you so unwise? Realize, you are. Had you talked to the winds of time, Then you'd know how the water rhyme. Taste of wine, How can you know where you've been? In time you'll see the sign, And realize your sin. Will you know how the seed is sown? All your time has been overgrown, Never known. Have you walked on the stones of years? When you speak, is it you that hears? Are your ears full? You can't hear anything at all. II. MASS The preacher said a prayer, Save ev'ry single hair on his head. He's dead. The minister of hate had just arrived too late to be spared. Who cared? The weaver in the web that he made! The pilgrim wandered in, Commiting ev'ry sin that he could So good... The cardinal of grief was set in his belief he'd saved From the grave The weaver in the web that he made! The high priest took a blade To bless the ones that prayed, And all obeyed. The messenger of fear is slowly growing, nearer to the time, A sign. The weaver in the web that he made! A Bishop rings a bell, A cloak of darkness fell across the ground, Without a sound! The silent choir sing and in their silence, Bring jaded sound, harmonic ground. The weaver in the web that he made! III. BATTLEFIELD Clear the battlefield and let me see All the profit from our victory. You talk of freedom, starving children fall. Are you deaf when you hear the season's call? Were you there to watch the earth be scorched? Did you stand beside the spectral torch? Know the leaves of sorrow turned their face, Scattered on the ashes of disgrace. Every blade is sharp; the arrows fly We're the victims of your armies lie, Where the blades of grass and arrows rain Then there will be no sorrow, Be no pain |
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| 3. |
| - |
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Why do you stare Do you think that i care? You've been mislead By the thoughts in your head Your words waste and decay Nothing you say Reaches my ears anyway You never spoke a word of truth Why do you think I believe what you said Few of your words Ever enter my head I'm tired of liver for freaks? With tongues in their cheeks Turning their eyes as they speak They make me sick and tired Are you confused To the point in your mind Though you're blind Can't you see you're wrong Won't you refuse To be used Even though you may know I can see you're wrong Please, please, please open their eyes Please, please, please don't give me lies I loon? all of the earth Witness my birth Cried at the sight of a man And still i don't know who i am (chorus) I've seen paupers as kings Puppets on strings Dance for the children who stare You must have seen them everywhere |
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| 4. |
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Wicked josie rode away In the sunset covered sky A lynching mob had strung his friend up Right before his eyes He didn't know what they'd both done He sure as hell would end up one A hot tin notch on the sheriff's gun If he didn't move on Get out of here The sheriff followed josie's journey )from kansas in the west He said he'd put a bullet right Through poor old josie's chest But josie wasn't like the rest He don't like bullet holes in his vest In fact he'd do his very best Don't want any arrest Don't want to be the guest Of the sheriff The nights got so damned cold He couldn't stand the pace He looked again for sheriff's men But couldn't see the chase Josie found a nice warm place But then the sheriff solved the case Hoped to find josie's face And said lookie here... Sheriff rode him into town With josie look inside He didn't know about the six-gun Wicked josie had Then josie drew his gun real fast Gave the sheriff one big blast And josie was a song at last A legend from the past Nobody ever messed with the sheriff |
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| 5. |
| - |
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Just take a pebble and cast it to the sea,
Then watch the ripples that unfold into me, My face spill so gently into your eyes, Disturbing the waters of our lives. Shread of our memories are lying on your grass; Wounded words of laughter are graveyards of the past. Photographs are grey and torn, scattered in your fields Letters of your mem'ries are not real. Sadness on your shoulders like a wornout overcoat In pockets creased and tattered hang the rags of your hope. The daybreak is your midnight; the colours have all died. Disturbing the waters of our lives, of our lives, of our lives, lives, lives, lives... Of our lives. |
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| 6. |
| - |
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Lead me from tortured dreams
Childhood themes of nights alone, Wipe away endless years, Childhood tears as dry as stone. From seeds of confusion, Illusions darks blossoms have grown. Even now in furrows of sorrow The dance still is sung. My life's course is guided Decided by limits drawn On charts of my past days And pathways since I was born. I carry the dust of a journey That cannot be shaken away It lives deep within me For I breathe it every day. You and I are yesterday's answers, The earth of the past came to flesh, Eroded by Time's rivers To the shapes we now possess. Come share of my breath and my substance, And mingle our stream and our times. In bright, infinite moments, Our reasons are lost in our rhymes. Doubles faces dark defense Talk too loud but talk no sense Yeah I see those smiling eyes Butter us up with smiling lies Talk to creatures raise the dead Fate you know sure got fed Trained apart from houses of stone Hour of horses pick the bone Come forth, from love spire Born in life's fire, Born in life's fire. Come forth, from love's spire In the burning, all are yearning, For life to be. And the pain will (must) be gain, New life! Stirring in, salty streams And dark hidden seams Where the fossil sun gleams. They were, sent from (to) the gates Ride the tides of fate, Ride the tides of fate. They were, sent from (to) the gates In the burning of our yearning, For life to be. There's no end to my life, No beginning to my death Death is life! |
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