There’s an oasis in the heat of the day, there’s a fire in the chill of night,
A turnabout in circumstance makes each a hell in its own right,
I’ve been boxed-in in the lowlands, in the canyons that think,
I’ve been pushed to the brink of the precipice and dared not to blink,
I’ve been confounded in the whirlwind of what-ifs and dreams,
I’ve been burned by the turning of the wind back upon my own flames.
Knock the scales from my eyes,
Knock the words from my lungs,
I want to cry out; it’s on the tip of my tongue.
Well, I’ve seen through the walls of this kingdom of dust, felt the crucial revelation,
But the broad streets of the heart and the day-to-day meet at a blind intersection,
Well, I don’t want to be lonely, I don’t want to feel pain,
I don’t want to draw straws with the sons of Cain,
You can take it as a prayer, if you’ll remember my name,
You can take it as the penance of a profane saint.
Knock the scales from my eyes,
Knock the words from my lungs,
I want to cry out; it’s on the tip of my tongue,
Knock the scales from my eyes,
Knock the words from my lungs,
I want to cry out; it’s on the tip of my tongue.
There’s an oasis in the heat of the day, there’s fire in the chill of night,
And when I know them both I’ll know your love – I will feel it in the twilight,
Oh, as circumstance comes crashing through my walls like a train,
Like a chorus from the mountains of the ocean floor,
Like the wind-burst of bird-wings taking flight in a hard rain,
Like a mad dog on the far side of Dante’s Door.
Knock the scales from my eyes,
Knock the words from my lungs,
I want to cry out; it’s on the tip of my tongue,
Knock the scales from my eyes,
Knock the words from my lungs,
I want to cry out; it’s on the tip of my tongue,
Knock the scales from my eyes,
Knock the words from my lungs,
I want to cry out; it’s on the tip of my tongue,
Knock the scales from my eyes,
Knock the words from my lungs,
I want to cry out; it’s on the tip of my tongue.
