It came to our coast in a wind of needles and sand
At the end of our street it lost its head in my hand
Tossed in that black November feeling and boom
The tower gave in to its poor steeling too soon
Your luck
Your luck
Your poor luck has turned
Walk on
Walk on
To the bright side the loss is learned
Your luck
Your luck
Your poor luck has turned
Walk on
Walk on
To the bright side the loss is learned
The pedestals to which we hold
All must fall
Don't built upon
The pedestals to which we hold
All must fall
Don't built upon
The pedestals
The pedestals
All must fall