The wall on which the prophets wrote is cracking at the seams
Upon the [bad word] of death the sunlight brightly gleams
When every man is torn apart with nightmares and with dreams
Will no one lay the laurel wreath as silence drowns the screams

Confusion will be my epitaph
As I walk a cracked and broken path
If we make it we can all sit back and laugh
but I fear tomorrow I'll be crying
Yes, I fear tomorrow I'll be crying

Between the iron gates of fate the seeds of time were sown
And watered by the deeds of those who know
and who are known
Knowledge is a deadly friend when no one sets [bad word] 
The fate of all mankind I see is in the hands of fools

Confusion will be my epitaph
As I walk a cracked and broken path
If we make it we can all sit back and laugh
but I fear tomorrow I'll be crying
Yes, I fear tomorrow I'll be crying