The wall on which the prophets write never ends,
It's too old and cracking at the seams to mend.
Beauty on those instruments of death and gore,
The sunlight shows that men have been ripped and torn.

When ev'ry man, yes ev'ry man, oh how they're torn through.

Nightmares of people, some are at hand,
Just what I go through, laurel wreaths they don't hand.
Still drowns the screams of, thoughts they cannot defend.
Still drowns the screams of thoughts, they just cannot defend.

When ev'ry man, yes ev'ry man,
Oh how they're torn through,oh how they're torn through.

-instrumental-

Epitaph will be my confusion no end,
Broken path that's cracked, I crawled on as it wends.
Did we make it? Then we can laugh and explore.
Must we fear tomorrow, hidden paths don't say more.

Must we fear truth, yes we fear truth,
Oh how we fear truth, oh how we fear truth.
Fear tomorrow, yes fear tomorrow,
Oh fear tomorow, oh fear tomorrow.(oh fear tomorrow)

~Late Lament~ (spoken)

Between iron gates of doom,
Watch seeds of time being sown,
And have been watered by the deeds of men
Who know and who have been uselessly rent.

Knowledge wrestles as some deadly one.
If no one sets the rules, there is none.
Fate of her mankind I see is sons.
Enter in the hands of fools,we're stung.

Cold confusion epitaph writes.
Crawling a cracked and broken sight.
We can all sit back and smirk.
But tomorrow cry I might.
'Morrow is your confusion.