1, 2, 3, 4 These eyes last gazed on Eden, Lost count of all the seasons So great the space that tore us, Less than the space before us. This face reflecting glories, And lined with years of stories. The drifting dunes inside me, Reshape, reform, remind me. The ties that used to bind me Once hard to put behind me And seeing you before me This story starts again And the world is still the same So sacred so profane So the world is not to blame For all the things we've made And if good and bad remain And if everything's the same Then the world is not to blame For all the things we've made There must have been a reason A fateful act of treason Guilt without confession Falling down from heaven This upside down procession Too late to change direction When heroes die by millions Then all the saints are villains The ties that used to bind me Once hard to put behind me And seeing you before me The story starts again And the world is still the same So sacred so profane So the world is not to blame For all the things we've made If good and bad remain And if everything's the same Then the world is not to blame For all the things we've made