The answers that I’m looking for won’t make sense in time,
And the answers that I’m looking for just won’t come to mind,
Because the answers only come when the question brave enough to ask,
The answers only come when you can carry them from your past,
The questions only come when you see what you have lost,
And the sight of what your losing is only known with your cost.

And is it too hard for the blind to past the blood and see,
To stop the tears of sadness and become the man that’s free?

To walk around in blindness,
To see the cage of fear,
To move the path of darkness,
And know you made it here.

To fight the losing battle,
To surrender to defeat,
To hear the darkness prattle,
To know that you’ve been beat.

The questions unasked that we’ve since never come to know,
The day that’s lost in winter so afraid of white downy snow,
For burning white-blue purity is more fearsome then any blade,
And what have humans to sacrifice to equate for the trade,
Then to whom do we trade to gain what we cannot attain,
To create the questions once upon in a land not slain.

And is it to hard for the mute to past their heart and speak,
To stop the wails of anger and become the man at his peak?

To walk around in silence,
To feel the fear that is a cage,
To scream past the last defense,
To loose the silent flood of rage.

To began an endless war,
To raise the crimson sun,
To realize life's a whore,
And you are her son.

For the simple white flecks can't hold the writ,
And the wind can never spell the words of the script,
There is no hand of soil, no tool to caress,
There is no sword or shovel to help him lay to rest,
And though the does toil till death breaths his life,
The next falling snow shall wash the earth of his strife.

To finally find the question,
To find answers of the gate,
To quite the one's obsession,
And realize your to late.