Texty: Threshold. Psychedelicatessen. Devoted.

we fear the void like some dark temptation
(calling you under)
pulling us off course
just as we are beginning to get closer
closer to the light, closer to the light

and it gets harder to concentrate
and it gets harder to concentrate
and it gets harder to concentrate

and we must keep our faces pointing
straight into the light
and upwards into his domain
we can have help as we are getting closer
closer to the light, closer to the light

and it gets harder to compensate
and it gets harder to compensate
and it gets harder to compensate

i can see you, you're not there fog of existence fills the air
i can't matter now i've found art of freedom, safe and sound
when i feel that hope is lost only the devoted know the cost