歌词
In the falling light you ask of me which direction
As the autumn’s rite makes music of mid November
At the call to fight you act but with no one looking
And the walls of eyes lean back on the same intention
In the morning I'll be gone
Like a dream I'll face no future
Let the fortune work for us
Let who comes pick up the pieces
In the words of Right you laugh but through fearful tension
And the more they lie, to win wins the moment’s gesture
In the morning I'll be gone
Like a dream I'll face no future
Let the fortune work for us
Let who comes pick up the pieces
In the morning I'll be gone
Leave them to their fruitless fiction
As the fortune falls to dust
And they argue who dismissed it
Written by: Emanuel Ayvas, Kevin Plessner
