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Waiting for the rain
For the skies lamenting
All around silence
Has its roots sunk deep
My longing lingers
My tresses twist
But in my isolation
All truth is empty
Waiting by the wayside
Of an endless reverie
Where all the things I run from
Are sure enough to find me
Would that love were something
Than a false slavery
To a god I don't know
And to all the things that tempt me
Then in the light of reason
Where truth is empty
The alchemy of sin
Would be revealed
Waiting by the wayside
Of an endless reverie
Where all the things I run from
Are sure enough to find me
