Eye Stones

Eye Stones It has come to pass That we sing our songs Of yesterday's gloom . . . Of tomorrow's doom . . . While trying to figure out Why we are out of date Fools of doubt A mind trapped within a state of time Where life is but an imagination Of an empty soul's interpretation Of a mirage in the desert heat And we are made of meat! Able to rot and age with time Dying from the moment of conception Like glowing embers falling from the sky We're already dead, so we can't die, just cry The clock is running out of tock The eyes are growing dark--a sea of stones What's it like to know you are dead? To know that life is just all in your head?