In the dawning, wakening 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 only sees in limitation



Now he sits upon his empty bed

His heart is warm, his heart is full and he can see

But it is impossible for him to retain me

For his arms are without form, he cannot know the word

As his mind cries out absurd
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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 pictures he sees are tragic as 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

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