Once there were trees full of birds Meadowlands vibrant with flowers Carefree the songs our children once sang Gilding our minutes and hours Clouds came and covered the sun The breath of a baleful unease Turning to ashes flowers in their fields Silenced the birds in their trees Hidden so deep in veils of deceit Imprisoned in twisting spells Are we the playing of fiends, or merely the dreams That we're telling ourselves, telling ourselves? For tho the storms are over and past Tho the thunder's rage is quieted at last This nightmare's laid me down in the rags here to mourn Here to mourn The night has left us crippled with grief As we strive to keep alive our belief. But a loss so great It clouds all over our hopes for the dawn Hidden so deep in veils of deceit Imprisoned in twisting spells Are we the playing of fiends, or merely the dreams That we're telling ourselves, telling ourselves? Stories of danger, fearless attack Spectres of plague and pain All of these ghosts of our own delusions come back Have we been fighting in vain? Fighting in vain?