Stories Of Old

Remember a time when we relied On stories of old, do what you're told When mothers would cry for your soul Where fathers stood tall for us all to see We all get by We all survive We almost might Cities we forge with the village our torch Iron to sand, where do we stand Your priest is a thief, your secrets he hoards Awake and asleep since before '84 We all get by We all survive We almost might It all goes away, It all goes black We're not here to stay It all goes away, It all goes black We're not here to stay It all goes away, It all goes black It all goes away, but it always comes back