And if I taught you how to dream,
I learnt how to lose it all,
when the pure fallen just washed it all away,
when the dreams we had washed away.

Running in streams,
like coloured tears down your face,
when your hands open like wings
tattered and broken,
to take you away,
where my fingers splay out over the page,
wishing for dreams,
pouring soulrivers into the pages,
and hope, and hope, and hope.

When your hands open like wings
and your lips give life to death,
and hope, and hope, and hope.

Washed away, soaked and heavy, dragging along.

Still coloured the tears fallen down,
and hope and hope and hope
opens your hands like wings to fly again,
on hope, and hope, please hope.

When our former dreams come to haunt,
to phantom-torment.
Where was our angel-grace then?

After we taught you dreams,
we fell, we fell hard.

We don't kiss now,
we barely touch,
nessecities, a must, if that.

The wine we made, you drank,
sours in our mouths,
spat out it sinks into tainted earth,
where we trod.

And everything we said we'd lost,
found us again.

We didn't teach you dreams at all,
nay, we gave you our hope,
because you need it more then we.

And our hands open like wings,
the darkest carnival lights,
and sorry go round stops,
the wrong side of the track,
or losing it all.

And our hands open like wings,
and broken, we soar into the skies of rust,
of ruin, of wrath and wrack.

We taught you dreams and learnt how to fall,
the tainted earth our cradle for now,
feeding the rain with our tears and ruined wine.

And our hands close around our throats like wings,
as the last of our dreams soak into the afflicted soil.