Standing in a lighthouse, with my eyes towards the sun.
I belong there i'll be strong there.
A fugitive from options, before it have begun.
I can't do it, i just can't commit.
It's just a slight, restatement of the play
Only a light, restatement of the play.
Standing in a corner, my palms towards my face.
I cant do it, i just can't commit.
Leaving this world, means a different time or space.
I belong there. i'll be strong there.
It's just a slight . . . .
When lions on monuments are rising to roar.
Presidents, play golf, lift there heads to shout fore.
Are we winning or losing?
We turn to the play.
And read that the options, may come to us some day.
Oh, do we need it do we care, can we see it everywhere.
When huns were attacking, our castles and our farms.
And then went to spread the word of god, with soldiers, with arms.
Did we feel the god of progress, caressing our cheeks?
Is it true that we are looking, and that we find what we seek?
Oh, do we need it do we care, can we touch what we cant bear.
