She was oldernLost connectionnLost that light above her head in all directionsnBut she climbed that mountainnAnd cried aloud like a marching drumnSound your horns and heed your callingnnThere is work to be donenThere is work to be donenWe’re all just dust to glorynThere is work to be donenThere is work to be donenBow your head to the mission storynnHe couldn’t see itnBut he heard itnShe saw him struggling with the symbolsnSo she wrote it downnShe looked right through himnAnd saw the shadows of the risen SonnCast your nets unto the oceannnThere is work to be donenThere is work to be donenWe’re all just dust to glorynThere is work to be donenThere is work to be donenBow your head to the mission storynnI remember when I borrowed all my healing from a strangernAnd I recall when I reached to the ocean like a soldiernAnd the burning sun just made me coldernAnd the hollow moon just made me oldernSo I reached out of my body and the stars became a storynAnd I bowed my head in glorynAs the story ends in One