In the time of my confession, in the hour of my deepest need,
When the pool of tears beneath my feet flood every newborn seed,
There's a dying voice within me reaching out somewhere,
Toiling in the danger, in the morals of despair.
Don't have the inclination to look back on any mistake,
Like Cain I now behold this chain of events that I must break.
In the fury of the moment I can see the master's hand
In every leaf that trembles and in every grain of sand.
Oh, the flowers of indulgence and the weeds of yesteryear,
Like criminals they have choked the breath of conscience and good cheer,
The sun beat down upon the steps of time to light the way,
To ease the pain of idleness and the memory of decay.
I gaze into the doorway of temptation's angry flame
And, every time I pass that way, I always hear my name.
Then, onward in my journey, I come to understand
That every hair is numbered like every grain of sand.
1
I have gone from rags to riches in the sorrow of the night,
In the violence of a summer's dream, in the chill of a wintry light,
In the bitter dance of loneliness fading into space,
In the broken mirror of innocence on each forgotten face.
I hear the ancient footsteps like the motion of the sea,
Sometimes I turn, there's someone there, other times it's only me.
I am hanging in the balance of a perfect, finished plan
Like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand.
1
The sound of a barking dog can seemingly be heard in the background during this line and elsewhere in the song.