Your grand ideals are so close to all of ours
and for us all of this you would do
Yes, the sun illuminates your face
Well, you might think - but your mask of gold
still shows your eyes of coal
Of course the moon throws shadows on your face;
your cold mask wanes
You?re wishing on, insisting on a way
to wake to find a gleam of hopeful rays
You might say that it is my lack of faith and not your mistake
Aside from right or wrong or who is at fault, the end result-
a broken image that you can?t hope to mend
You might try to adhere the pieces with your denial
Is this your gift to me?
Music &Lyrics ©1996 by Middle Earth
lyrics by David Lee & Charlene Thompson