1, 2, 3, 4
These eyes last gazed on Eden,
Lost count of all the seasons
So great the space that tore us,
Less than the space before us.
This face reflecting glories,
And lined with years of stories.
The drifting dunes inside me,
Reshape, reform, remind me.
The ties that used to bind me
Once hard to put behind me
And seeing you before me
This story starts again
And the world is still the same
So sacred so profane
So the world is not to blame
For all the things we've made
And if good and bad remain
And if everything's the same
Then the world is not to blame
For all the things we've made
There must have been a reason
A fateful act of treason
Guilt without confession
Falling down from heaven
This upside down procession
Too late to change direction
When heroes die by millions
Then all the saints are villains
The ties that used to bind me
Once hard to put behind me
And seeing you before me
The story starts again
And the world is still the same
So sacred so profane
So the world is not to blame
For all the things we've made
If good and bad remain
And if everything's the same
Then the world is not to blame
For all the things we've made