Something got burned in the fire last night, said "I don't know what it was but it just aint right"...last night.
I hauled all the burning embers outside, poured them on the ground and I prayed to the sky...outside.
The color of the ashes was the strangest gray, smoke slow-danced above them in a ghostly way...strangest gray.

And it looks like there's nothing left alive. Looks like there's nothing left alive...inside.

The smoke brought a vision as I danced on the coals, of a blackened dove and a bleached out crow...on the coals.
They talked about a time before the flood, when they didn't know each other because they were one...fore the flood.

And it looks like there's nothing left alive. Looks like there's nothing left alive...inside.

They brought me to the place where the old man died, singing 'Go Tell Aunt Roadie' down by the riverside...old man died.
At the service I saw his skin had turned gray, so that it matched the box supplied by the state...had turned to gray.

And it looks like there's nothing left alive. Looks like there's nothing left alive...inside.

I watched as the hearse went rolling by, caught my reflection in the glossy shine...rolling by.
And I saw the tears standing on my face, I went to wipe them away but there wasn't a trace...on my face.

And it looks like there's nothing left alive. Looks like there's nothing left alive...inside.

And blood came pouring down from the Son, and ever since then all the color's been gone.

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