Slaves give birth to slaves.
A polluted blood stream,
The invading stream.
A blissful irony.

Lost we are,
In the clouds of our dreams;
A forgotten hope,
A dying star.

The insatiable drive,
An appetite, insatiable.
A lonely walk by the frozen river and faces in the dark,
All begin to fade..

What is this I find myself on,
The relentless rhythm of its back.
Black and white images flicker on a wall,
The gaze of the audience fuel it's meaning.
Passing through the canyon we are relieved,
The shadows have not betrayed us.
The relentless rhythm of its back, comforting in the dark.

Long coats walk by the window,
Hats with eyes stare intently at themselves.
No meaning was ever found, just relentless rhythm and destination.

The same seats are occupied, by weary eyes and saddened faces.
Plug me into my holiday, anything to save me from the shadows.
The rhythm is back now my friend, we are all moving as one,
The relentless rhythm and destination friend, ticket for one?

You left the door open,
For only a night;
I remember seeing you walking,
Right out of sight.

You're a big boy now!
A small young man,
Somewhere in between all of that,
You don't mean allot to me.

I still smile at the good times,
But they will always be past tense,
I have an older brother now;
His name is Big Bridge Ridge,
But even he likes to deceive.
He's lying to his own mother,
even while she weeps and pleeds.

So I did my time on my own,
Cursing and plotting,
hating the world.
But it wasn't my fault,
All of those rich kids,
Parading around like dressed up *****.

I was just angry at what had happened,
all those years ago.
But I found my therapy,
In a song sent to me.

Nevertheless he cried,
life moves on,
Just please please, play by the rules.
Its those three words he spoke off;
That rescued me.