I'm facing down the beast
It's constant assault will never cease
It's ridged, but everything to it's will bends
Beyond this earth it transcends

It eventually leaves everything to rust and ruin
On and on it keeps on chewing
There is no stopping it, I'm only human
It's always there, always looming

In it's clutches there is nothing but change
It just loves to rearrange
Mountains it will not let stand
Oceans it will turn to sand

Every single thing, it touches and rapes
Even in the coffin there is no escape
It still munches and shapes

Dead and dying dreams, it leaves in it wake
Everything it will forsake
It's always there to leave it's mark
In the light or in the dark

So while we're here ring the bells, let them chime
While there's still a mountain, climb
After all, you can't change time

The window's cracked a bit
some cat had given out a lonely mewl
                   and I decided to hear his
                        swan-song

                      I figure he's probably just teary-eyed
                                            bout some girl
                                                        stood him up.

                                  We're both creatures of the night,
                                        things dracula turns into
                                                        when he gets tired of people
                                            calling him a monster
                                                                                 which I suppose he is, really.

                                 There's an owl in the spruce tree across the street.
                                         I can hear him belt the blues
                                                      if I quit fidgeting long enough
                                                 I wonder if they're listening to me too
                                                             while I click-clack
                                                                       out the window

                       trying to find some rhythm in the madness

                sing on, boys.
                            I'll be the percussionist
                            and you can riff all you want
                                  nevermind the errors,
                                        we'll just tell the naysayers
                                                   that jazz
                                             isn't supposed to have rules.