COPYRIGHT © 2008. ANDY SCISCO

I climbed upon a train in early hours

The mountains slept tall and true

Like hats over the heads of three merchants

Sharing their secrets in a line

A killer was born in my compartment

It was the best his mother could do

As she gasped in the tide of her own blood

And with the moon in her suitcase she disappeared

And maybe this child

Will lead us all to the place

Of which we so often hear

And maybe the sand must fill our eyes

Before we witness the dawning of our dreams

And maybe this child

Will lead us all to the place

Of which we so often hear

And maybe the sand must fill our eyes

Before we witness the dawning of our dreams

Before we witness the dawning of our dreams

Before we witness the dawning of our dreams