Flung high
The salutations
The deep curse
And the shudders closed
The spring house
In the making
A good house
Of the many stones
In my soul
And fears I don't know
I hear there's a march
We should go
Lost on this road
Are there any real
Sundays to find?
Unveil
On the rising
The paramount
Of the eyes of kings
As you saw
What I'm seeing
You thaw
From the fires
There's pace
In your game
And wake
In you strays
I ache from
The center rounds
Lost on this road
Are there any real
Sundays to find?
Lost on this road
Are there any real
Souls?
Don't hear what I hear
Don't see what I see
Don't leave what I must
Leave behind
Lost on this road
Are there any real
Sundays to find?
This stop, I am hungry
The deep well
Of a stranger hell
And this hearts
A lonely hunter now
I'm lost on this road
Are there any real
Sundays to find?
I'm lost on this road
Are there any real
Souls?
Are there any real souls
To find?

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