We are the inheritors; the evidence of heaven
Descendants of a legacy gone but not forgotten
We are the inheritors of the grand persuasion
Descendants of its masquerade; numb but not defeated
 [bad word] to the silent war, to the world we never hoped to gain 
The great disguise wandering between two realms 
One dead the other rarely dwells beyond our eyes
Lest we be sorely recognized 

What little good intentions seem 
But obviate the bloom of self esteem 
We'll save our prayers 
Inured to wounds from bleeding minds 
Where wisdom dares not mix with time 
Never fear; they'll age they'll change they'll disappear 

In every dance no steps are placed 
And every path mistakes are made 
And if all paths lead but to the grave 
Then let us dance along our way 

Gliding from room to room all cast in celebrated gloom 
With no where yet to rest our head
Waiting for a door to open from within and bring us home 
Lest we possess our souls again 

You are a wonder and I will sing your praise