Meanwhile back in the year one,
When you belonged to no one,
You didn't stand a chance, son,
If your pants were undone.

'Cause you were bred for humanity
And sold to society.
One day you'll wake up in the present day,
million generations removed from expectations
Of being who you really want to be.

Skating away on the thin ice of the new day.

So, as you push off from the shore,
Won't you turn your head once more
And make your peace with everyone?
For those who choose to stay
Will live just one more day
To do the things they should have done.

And as you cross the wilderness,
Spinning in your emptiness,
You feel you have to pray.
Looking for a sign that the universal mind
Has written you into the passion play.

And as you cross the circle line,
When the ice-wall creaks behind,
You're a rabbit on [bad word] 
And the silver splinters fly
In the corner of your eye,
Shining in the setting sun.

Well, do you ever get the feeling
That the story's too [bad word] real
And in the present tense?
Or that everybody's on the stage,
And it seems like you're the only
Person sitting in the audience?

Skating away on the thin ice of the new day.