I watched men return to their destruction,
reversed ruin in the puzzle of time.
I watched the bullets fly in wrong directions,
enter the guns that first fired them.
Backward flying planes,
they must have been a sight to see.
Missiles torn and taken back,
to the men ordered to harm me.
The knife repairs the wound,
the eraser creates the line.
Beginnings fit into an hour,
opposites viewed in real time.
Wake up dazed on the battlefield,
shells scatter and run away.
This place is familiar,
it's where I grew up.
The earth was created with a bomb.
It slips away, that is true.
Time does fly, but where does it go to?
Time does fly, but where does it go to?
My crippled pride before you burns.
I am but a weak shell of existence on a calendar
Marked and dated for my return.
Marked and dated for my return.
Marked and dated for my return.
Marked and dated for my return.
It's marked and dated for my return.
Marked and...
Dated for my return.