The ego comes to haunt the days of the child underpinned on my dress,
Another day passes over and the seconds never rest.
Fare thee well is not goodbye, my love
A tear shall not be shed,
For the sun will rise tomorrow and my sheep will then be led.

Twisting snarls, a rictus dream of shadows on the wall,
And this is where they screamed obscene, yes, this is where they fall.
Fare thee well is not goodbye, my love
Your tears will overflow
But I will follow distant hopes of a new love to be sewn.

Chaos runs within the veins of cultures born and bred,
And while the young ones starve to death the rich ones shall be fed.
Fare thee well is not goodbye, my love
And greed is not in womb,
A new hope rises from the ash of this cold, old, bitter tomb.