Текст песни: Wounded (the). Atlantic. Day Of Joy.

What are these dark and wicked things you always show me?
Cutting deep inside the blind part of my overloaded mind.
Spinning on to become a gentle yet a foul and elusive thought.
I create, but I cannot decipher that what's in my head.
I hide.

I see we have a fight once more, how they never pass me by.
It's unbelievable how they always arrive on time.
Tranquillize me with aggressive drugs, yet awake I see they never left my
sleeping head.
I'm running out of time, were running out of time.
I'm running out of time, were running out of time.

I have lost my sense on a bitter day,
Yet I lay my trust in your bleeding hands.
Hoping that my faith will never die.
Were running out of time.