Past Lives Follow

Those visions soft and sweet hang from the hands of time
Grey fruit on broken branch, concrete on the vine
Beneath the silver and the skin, the teardrop and the sea
The hollow hole it grows into eternity

Candle in the corner, no light
No sleep no dream tonight

Babel is no tower, son; no, Babel is that hole

And the sun will shine just long enough to show you what you've missed
Everywhere bewildered stare, a stranger where you sit

Babel is no tower, son; no, Babel is that pit
Where the taxman comes, collects your thoughts and puts them into print
This is all you've given us? This is all there is?
Everywhere bewildered stare, a stranger where you sit

Those visions soft and sweet hang from the hands of time
Grey fruit on broken branch, concrete on the vine
Beneath the silver and the skin, the teardrop and the sea