Men of the west
Blind to all else that is static and moves
Here at the end
Mountain smoke under the moon
Marked with a stick in the frosted dew as earthen fingers claw and rake at the sky
Pitiful creature
The last men weep and stand in line
Weighed and wanting
Wanting
Wanting
Wanting
Here lie the men of the west
Blind to all else that is static and moves
Mountain smoke underneath the moon
Here lie the men of the west
Blind to all else that is static and moves
Mountain smoke underneath the moon