Don't hang around, son, blacked out by fear
All bits of reason are lost in a smear
Out of our reach, and beyond our ideas
There's a world we all seek that's beginning to tear

Don't mess around, son, we will need you here
The dust's about to fall and the smoke's about to clear
Far from the edge meet the sky, dull and drear
Never to free your soul from its toils and its snares

Out with the old and in with the blue
I surmise I won't have any answers for you

Climb the walls, there's no lesson in this scroll
I am sure I don't have any answers at all

Should you accept you were holding the gun
Meditation, aggravation, makes it all come undone

Out with the old and in with the blue
I've been told I don't have any graces, it's true