The practice of harmony is a delicate thing The tension preceding the bow and the string It's just how you phrase it, it's not what you mean The art of precision will keep your thoughts clean Until the day you're faced with a beast that no one can tame Until the day you're caught in the storm of what you'd became The days increase, scatter like pearls from a chain, a chain Caught on the ground, washing away with the rain, the rain, the rain, with the rain Peace of mind is a balancing act Convenience dictates what you add and subtract A transient construct, believe and deny All truth is simple, is that not doubly aligned? Until the day you're faced with a beast that no one can tame Until the day you're caught in the storm of what you'd became The days increase, scatter like pearls from a chain, a chain Caught on the ground, washing away with the rain, the rain, the rain, with the rain The days increase, scatter like pearls from a chain, a chain Caught on the ground, washing away with the rain, the rain, the rain, with the rain Harmony is a delicate thing Tension preceding the bow and the string It's just how you phrase it, it's not what you mean Is that not doubly aligned? The days increase, scatter like pearls from a chain, a chain Caught on the ground, washing away with the rain, the rain, the rain, with the rain *