As the sun comes creeping up the mountain
and the wind blows over from the sea.
Hey, we're brought into this land like tiny particles of sand,
unsure of who we're smarter than, or what we're meant to be.
Oh the grains sift coarsely through the hour glass
and collect like their victims in the bowl.
The ungodly force of change erodes all sense of earthly gains.
While tending to the mundane will terrorize your soul.
And it's no! It's no use thinking that you're wrong.
The past is old and gone. It's best to move along
and find your Avalon.
Verse 2
Well, I wish that I could tell you it was easy,