The Spirit listens to sounds outside her windownAs she stands in direction for menDressed down before the angels of broken wingsnAnd her movements in shape for the scenesnnThe Singer walks in walls with shadows on his facenSo many thoughts on a distant mindnMistaken by sanded visions of youthnSo overcome by threads of timen(Threads of time...)nnCleansing with all the spiritnTo wipe the skin clear of the daynFade away into the essencenOf the water that runs in painnnIn a Singer's daydreams we findnWe could hang upon her eyesnWipe away the flesh of hernColored dark by sweet good-byesn(Sweet good-byes)nnCleansing with all the spiritnTo wipe the skin clear of the daynFade away into the essencenOf the water that runs in pain