I climb to the higher ground   to see what’s behind the sun   step on the hands made out of clay   the hands of stained mortals      all there is and all you’ll have   bless the one who cannot cry   there is no night   there is no sunlight   until you refuse to die      I’d let you sleep now   but I don’t know how   I’d let you grieve now   but I don’t know how      I chant the songs of madness   to be the chosen one   still all these bleeding wounds   cannot be cured by sadness