Текст песни
Countless days, countless dreams
We've searched for His source, the infinite streams
Drawing inspiration from the endless twist
Of words we bend to suit our whims
Does it make sense to strike down a foe?
Or grab the biggest slice, and let nothing go?
Countless climbs, countless times
We've chased the source of endless signs
Without a thought for what's around
Ignoring the truth that's yet to be found
Does it make sense to bloom in the sun?
Or should I just start my own run?
Countless tears, countless years
We've sought His source through hopes and fears
Still unsure how the Artist could paint
A self-portrait with no complaint
Is there a nuance hidden in lines?
Or just the roll of dice, that confines?
