There's a little child drowning in a pond    And you would have me throw a blanket on    the surface of the water    even though she was your daughter    and watch just how helplessly she dies    for the sake of how it looks    cause it's like you've read in books    It's a symbol of the way you see this life       And if a savior came upon a tray of gold    you'd insist that he had already been sold    even though you kew he hadn't    You're afraid to trade the bad in    for a good you don't know    Like a certain generation    in a proud and headstrong nation    who expects God to dance whenever she plays the fife       And if you want to talk in terms of the survival of the fittest    then take a look at the soul's auction house and whose the highest bid is    You understand the fear of man    but you forgot about the fear of God    And to the bloody ransom    that makes an ugly soul turn handsome    you give a condescending nod       There's a sense of desparation in your touch    and you say out loud you hate it very much    but you're addicted to your sadness    cause it creates the touch of madness    The kind you like inside your veins    Oh, why are you so hardened?    You know you could be pardoned    I guess you just will not let go of the reins       The lexicon of death is all you know    You feel suffocated by the falling snow    Cause you miss the beauty there    in the quiet holy air    and start looking for a desert you can roam    Your eyes too closed to see    the secret ministry    of the frost upon the window of your home    Oh, why are you so hardened?    You know you could be pardoned    and then you would not feel so alone    You're not alone.    You're not alone.    You're not alone.