Overhead, the sky seems almost clear

And the fire has seen the water dry

And age falls back on itself again

Save yourself

Stay warm by the hope you hold like I do, I do

What kind of home is this?

What kind of home is this?

I don't know, I don't care what time of day it is

"Send me more water, and now" she cried

And the clock rolls it's tired eyes

Wait until morning

Hold out until it comes

Heaven know where all this goes

Wasted thoughts that find no words

Are you listening? Are you listening

What kind of home lets the cold winds blow in

From the badlands around where we are?

And how can a moment burn down the bridges

We've worked hard, so long to secure

It's a fine time for kind hearts to hang up their fine thoughts

And throw all regret to the fire

And burn with their memory, the wounds

And the reveries that all of their efforts have bought

Gainsay resigning and challenge maintained

We conquer the victim to counter the circumstances behind our loss

So constantly flared up by the emotion

And their sanity is bound clearly firm

It's not a question of superstition, there is no need to be afraid