The sky is deep, the sky is dark, The light of stars is so damn stark. When I look up, I fill with fear. If all we have is what lies here, this lonely world, this troubled place, then cold dead stars and empty space . . . Well, I see no reason to persevere, no reason to laugh or shed a tear, no reason to sleep or ever to wake, no promises to keep, and none to make. And so at night I still raise my eyes to study the clear but mysterious skies -- that arch above us, as cold as stone. Are you there, God? Are we alone?
The sky is deep, the sky is dark, The light of stars is so damn stark. When I look up, I fill with fear. If all we have is what lies here, this lonely world, this troubled place, then cold dead stars and empty space . . . Well, I see no reason to persevere, no reason to laugh or shed a tear, no reason to sleep or ever to wake, no promises to keep, and none to make. And so at night I still raise my eyes to study the clear but mysterious skies -- that arch above us, as cold as stone. Are you there, God? Are we alone?
Turn not thy face from Death away. Care not he takes our breath away. Fear him not, he's not thy master, rushing at thee faster, faster. Not thy master but servant to the Maker of thee, what or Who created Death, created thee -- and is the only mystery.
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