Broken hearts on silver tongues, Falling souls from broken rungs, This is music to her ears, My solitary falling tears, Dropping down at wounded knee, And Judas hanging from a tree, Fear and hope like diseases spread, Mao Tse-tsung and a book thats red, Fates path we follow through the night, Like blind old men with hope for sight, And when we come to the final mile, We sit and wonder about that while, How our life on this single road, Exacts a toll make us carry load, Drop your burden and leave this path, Break fates rules subdue her wrath,