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All passenger prepare the game ritual: |
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There once was a man on this train, he was born into this world alone |
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Hands never laid on the wheel, content, he will never know more |
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He was a quiet man in pain, his tears |
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I fear are closing in again |
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What you lose in years you again in perspective |
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And the passenger pauses to see his mistakes |
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For with nothing to follow he'd lived all his life in vain |
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But then, who here among us is without shame? |
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His way was divergent and cold, defaced, this mask he must create |
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And the circle unfolding still, unscathed, he will turn a blind eye |
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He will miss the last train home this day, recycled in the flow reborn again |
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The cynic knows the price of everything and the value of nothing |
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And the passenger pauses to see his mistakes |
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For with nothing to follow he'd let all his will decay |
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But then, true wisdom comes in learning pain |
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And I have known pain |
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And the passenger pauses to see his mistakes |
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For with nothing to follow he'd lived all his life in vain |
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But then, the lesson unlearned he will begin again:. |
