In the dawning waking hour he'll lift his head
And brush his eyes with gentle strokes
That will only blindly mislead him
Into the first day of creation
Which he can only see in limitation
Now he sits upon his empty bed
His heart is warm, his heart is full and he can see
Yet it is impossible for him to retain me
For his arms are without form
And he cannot know the word
As his mind cries out absurd
Now he's standing inside the doorway
He is afraid but he believes all that he sees
On the floor where everything is merging
And the pictures he sees are tragic
And he begins to believe in magic
Now he lies down in a hole, down in the ground
Where it is cold and now he knows
Now he realizes his biggest mistake
That he never had to grow old
And he never had to grow cold and die