Titan’s Lament

(ahhhh, yeah)

I climb the peak of Mount Olympus through the heavy mist And

try to write a story that the gods have never missed My

feather pen is trembling like the leaves of Laurel trees While Icarus

is falling with the wax upon the breeze I hear the harp

of Orpheus descending to the dark To find his lost Eurydice and

leave a ghostly mark

We are carving out our names in the cold white stone (cold

stone) Chasing after golden fleece and sitting on a throne

(on a throne) But the Fates have spun the thread and they

hold the shears

We are only mortals crying through the thousand years

I see the loom of Penelope weaving through the night

Unraveling the tapestry before the morning light While Sisyphus is pushing up

his heavy block of stone And Midas counts his yellow currency all

alone We chase the sirens' voices as they sing upon the reef

And swap our simple lives for a moment of their grief

We are carving out our names in the cold white stone (cold

stone) Chasing after golden fleece and sitting on a throne

(on a throne) But the Fates have spun the thread and they

hold the shears

We are only mortals crying through the thousand years

The thread

is cut (shhh)

The story

ends