Castles in the air of dreams, built on ground biting days Sluggish grind, slow moving circles of ways Twisted shaped, crossroads of planets, spinning round in my system-maze Hours are to drain, hours are to throw into daze From the bottom of the spiral of grief From the bottom of this spiral ride From the bottom of these days should false proved to be right? Years exist to run, minds to blast, looks to stray, words to dig deep Love to bloom and wither, lies to be fit to eat To exist to exit? To appear to hide? To rise to fall? To know to forsake? To close my eyes oh, just before I wake? - Mother Sand & Father Stone - Way - I believe in your signs Writing the Book of My Days Phrases of some dying sighs Hold, hold my head out of the flow I'm out of my breath I see myself out of my soul Looked for the meaning Between the faded lines Found pseudo answers From time to time Sand-be our Mother At the end of the Way Stone-like Father reposes around Sand-be my Mother Just let me drift away Sister Wind, Brother Storm tear me out of this cold ground Sun keep on rising... Sun keep on rising... Just pray days become prey of The Stream's Called Endless Almighty Time It keeps alive all of the dreams... for a while Hold, hold my head out of the flow I'm out of my breath I see myself out of my soul