Who is it that sends monsters to kill,

Who is it that sings that we'll never die,

It's the same thing that holds time still,

The same being that gives us wings to fly,

It's the flow of time,

The flow that gives us power,

The power to stand up for death's crime,

And in this dark hour,

When no one is left to stand,

What else goes?

Everything that flows to our demand,

Giving us all the thoughts that allow us to grow,

But it's not the end,

We need to walk, to land,

Because it's time these waters bend,

So that we can walk hand in hand,

To the end of the world take us,

Where water flows in rivers of silver and gold,

And all that dwell there are to trust,

That it's somewhere no one grows old,

It's these flashing signs,

These thoughts that fall in line,

But they're not one thought, but many kinds,

So that we may understand the flow of time.