Cutting the water under our feet. A suicidal urge. Forcing our way to perfection, until all decays in the grey. A heavy wing lifts no more. A tired body no longer soars. These wounds of woe. How could we know? Clear cut tracts of land. We're in an endless coma. Lower your eyes and hold your breath, can you feel the ashes falling through thin air? This is not what we've hoped for - but we knew it all. Lower your eyes and hold your breath, can you feel the ashes falling through thin air? This is not what we've hoped for - but we knew it all. We knew it all. We knew it all. We knew it all.