Look at the sky the colors of the polar night
Horizon is dead now, there's something foul in the wind
It's heavy as hell, it has its rusty motors cut
Tall as a mountain the great wheel is rolling here

Don't fight with us, we keep it all astray
Don't fight with us, I'm trapped inside this wheel

Big Wheel turning on
Till it's turned more than now
Leave me nothing on
Feeling has got a gun and home

One thousand men, are trapped inside this turning wheel
The track it has left behind, is flowing river in a year
one mile per day, and 1 hour sleeping turns
Committed to walk and to worship this wheel of rust

Don't fight with us, we keep it turning free
Don't fight with us, I'm trapped inside this wheel

Big Wheel turning on
Till it's turned more than now

Leave me nothing on
Feeling has got a gun and home

And while our heads crane toward the sun
The fabric of time and space distort the air ahead
I reach to you from a realm of different rules
The hunters run and the game hunts after you

in the garden of flesh, in a one way merry-go-round
in a petrified colony, two suns and liquid time

Reason to fight remains
Morning of false brigades
Leave me nothing on
Feeling has got a gun and home