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I long to walk among the spires, the futile reach towards the skies.
To celebrate, what we deny, that the choice was wrong.
I long to cross these quiet lands, the skies reflected on the ground.
Would all seem saved, redeemed and pure, if what I'd lost were found again.
What will become of us, I ask, should this chance pass us by?
Our lives spent living with regret if this comes to nothing.
To know we'd found for us, in this, the chance of some safe haven.
With every step we walk away, like we're gazing at the sun.
I long to sense, among the lies, the chronicles of everything.
Every thought, every word and deed, all that is and has ever been.
Through the tears that you have cried, the song remains and plays again.
The proof of who and what we are, as we meet the morning skies.
What will become of us, I ask, should this chance pass us by?
Our lives spent living with regret if this comes to nothing.
To know we'd found for us, in this, the chance of some safe haven.
With every step we walk away, like we're gazing at the sun.
Aware for once how far we've come, as we greet the morning skies.
All that we know, all that might have been, in place of joy an uneasy calm.
Discarded chances, failed attempts, greatest hours and our sufferance.
What will become of us, I ask, should this chance pass us by?
Our lives spent living with regret if this comes to nothing.
To know we'd found for us, in this, the chance of some safe haven.
With every step we walk away, like we're gazing at the sun.
What will become of us, I ask?
Discarded chances, failed attempts...
What will become of us, I ask?
...the chance of some safe haven.
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