Dirty hands, dirty faces
Hiding in dirty places...

Like gentle rain they meet the breeze
Drifting through the air's own breath...

I live... I die
In between I cry...

Come the dead of winter
The wind has shifted aimlessly...

She came to this chapel
just to sit for awhile...

I see you, you reach for me
You touch me softly, inside me you creep...

Some people ask me what I think
when standing at the kitchen sink...

[I woke up feeling kind of sick...]
My head is sore, my stomach aches...

Over the horizon, among the darkened skies
The crystal stones in somber birth...

God looked down on earth one day
Amid st the hunger and decay...

Was the window of opportunity closed a little...
Was it locked up safely for a special reason just...

Is it passion that now guides us, as we move as...
Lost in an embrace as we watch the setting sun...