The Shroud

In his sign

You will see these golden letters

Make sure that no one enters

My mighty high house

During the years

Every desire slowly walked in

Decorated walls are talking

Of riches and fame

And now he can tell

When your heart is made out of gold

It's going to weigh like hell

Ever wonder if all was worthwhile?

Seen through the haze?

You never found

Pockets in the shroud

Hear the thunder and brimstone raining

The rats in the race

They never found

Pockets in the shroud

What is left

Not so much of children's stories

But a basement full of worries

Deep underground

Once long ago

All the crossing roads were still there

When your hair has long since turned silver

There is no return

Who would have believed

A fool had built a house out of

The years he left unlived

Sky is coming down

Lightshow and the bitter rain

Echoing sound of pairs of boots

They are walking up a hill

On the borderlines of sleep

On such a day

It is fine that it should rain