The fever rises,
And all seems lost,
The world is going back to dust,
But there’s a man,
Who’s standing still?
When the tempo aims to kill,
And he watches,
All the chaos,
People begging, “Who will save us”
He sees the beauty,
In the madness,
That skilful little temptress,
The people pass him,
And say he’d mad,
“Is he happy that we are sad?”
They gave a name,
The called him ‘The Watcher’,
The one as still as the dead water.