End of the Age

When the light dies down and you blood runs cold Then you know what you fear most is growing old The clock winds down and the bells will toll For the dawn that follows may require your soul (Chorus) Through the narrows there are few who pass Only the chosen enter in Seek your calling while it may be found For the sand in the hourglass is falling We hang in the balance one by one Turn from you ways the voice is calling And fear the end of the age Now the evil deed never goes unseen And the wisdom of your wise men is unclean For the pride of life and the lust for gain Is a sickness of the heart, the Mark of Cain