Sometimes, for a moment of bliss

And the passion, we're craving

There's a message we miss

Sometimes when, the spirits left alone

We must believe in something

To find if we've grown



Tragic reflex, shattered calm

Static progress, senses gone

Numb awareness, Final psalm



Swept away with the tide

Through the holes in my hands

Crown of thorns at my side

Drawing lines in the sand



Sometimes, if you're perfectly still

You can hear the virgin weeping

For the saviour of your will

Sometimes, your castles in the air

And the fantasies you're seeking

Are the crosses that you bear



Sacred conflict, blessed prize

Weeping crosses, stainless eyes

Desperate addict, faith disguised



Swept away with the tide

Through the holes in my hands

Crown of thorns at my side

Drawing lines in the sand



We fabricate our demons

Invite them into our homes

Have supper with the aliens

And fight the war alone

We conjure up our skeletons

Enlist the den of thieves

Frightened from our closets

Then sewn upon our sleeves



In the stream of consciousness

There is a river crying

Living comes much easier

Once we admit

We're dying



Sometimes, in the wreckage of our wake

There's a bitterness we harbour

And hate for hatred's sake

Sometimes we dig an early grave

And crucify our instincts

For the hope we couldn't save



Sometimes a view from sinless eyes

Centers our perspective

And pacifies our cries

Sometimes the anguish we survive

And the mysteries we nurture

Are the fabrics of our lives



Swept away with the tide

Through the holes in my hands

Crown of thorns at my side

Drawing lines in the sand...