Touch me now
Let me feel the bitter chill of your hands
Understand the holocaust in a caress
In your eyes a branding iron glare alights
Seven under nine in the same of game of chance

And you must turn it around
Turn it around until you see the veil of meaning in a different light

Separate the red from green,
Don’t let it melt into grey
Deny me the alternative of choice
Shatter me when [bad word] in for shelter from the cold
Till your name is spoken in a broken voice

And you must turn it around
Turn it around until you see
And you must turn it around
Turn it around until you see the veil of meaning in a different light