His face is young   His hands are old   The past is empty   Blind and cold      All the sweat   On his back   Grabs the dirt   It stains his shirt      Push all day   He rests at night   Do some hobbies   Drink to forget         [Spoken during verses]      A ton of sand at my feet   Each a speck in a space   All collecting in a mass   Pressure changing its shape, its direction, its purpose      As the sea tears it away from the land   More is pushed back   Each different   Each separate      All has changed and nothing has changed   When the momentum stops, the machine will die   For some reason we're not alone