ŞARKI SÖZÜ
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
