The bright convoy erodes the mountain stew,nFeeds the delta banks of time.nAnd the grains commence their reconstruction game,nBut whirls as dust in our eyes.nnSo you see it leaves me with my memory in my pocket, nAnd I'll sleep under the tide of dreams.nAnd I'll dream under the wings of time,nAnd I'll tie the grains of oblivion.nnTimes of thirst when money won't come by,nWill leave the dust to settle down,nShape the road that feeds our lemming heartsnTo history's repeating quake.nnSo you see it leaves me with a reason not to bother,n'Cause I'll sleep under the tide of dreams,nI'll tie the grains of oblivion.