In the End

A shift in shapes has come about, and no one's safe or sacred now,
But isn't that much better than the limbo we were living in?
Diaspora or Renaissance, blame Mercury or fate or chance;
Changes always come in packs, sniffing out your darkened doorsteps...

And when the words run out, the quiet's just as loud...

Then the world is upside down, and we're walking on our hands,
But we keep on spinning round, and who knows where we'll land
In the end?
In the end?

The moon, it moves in cycles, and we're subject to its will, its whims;
The tide, the time, the age, the law run back and forth like idle dogs...
History is not a highway, straight and narrow always,
But a roundabout, and round again, we ride around and hope for change...

And when the state's drawn out, the break is twice as loud...

Then the world is upside down, and we're walking on our hands,
But we keep on spinning round, and who knows where we'll land
In the end?
In the end?

This is the end of stagnant days;
Time to give up the way - I stand my ground,
Oh, stand my ground!

Then the world is upside down, and we're walking on our hands,
But we keep on spinning round, and who knows where we'll land
In the end?
In the end?
In the end?
In the end?
In the end, in the end...
In the end!
In the end!
In the end!
In the end!