I can see the writing's on the wall, And i feel the rhythm
Majestic swirling words clearly, i'm slowly falling in them
Writing's far enough to cross the globe in a evening
They go on and on for no reason, constantly fleeing
No message is depicted, the scribbling is incoherent
The wall is the abode.... markings made by spirits
Do you fear it ? The words are not meant to cause pain
I place my hand on the wall, and at once down falls rain
But this rain is red, blood from the man who wrote it
Every inch of his subtle life is wrote down and quoted
From the beginning of his life, to the day he died
Every occurence of his past, was wrote in cries
The further i read, the more distanced the words seemed
And some of the things that happened, i couldnt believe
At 21, on his birthday his father was brutally slain
A day later his mother was dead, thats truthfully pain
How could he refrain, from killing himself right then
He had to finish his story, no matter how frightened
How frightened he was or how frightened he would become
He could'nt leave this world, until his writings were done

He had to choose a spot, he needed to find a tablet
Were he could write his life away, and let the wall have it
The wall he chose, was the most beautiful wall there was
It was heavens gate white, without a trace of dust
He wrote his life away, so others could read his story
And when i read this wall, I felt like he wrote it for me
Who would have guessed a man that once lived
Would know about everything in my life that i did
We had the same birthday, we had the same strife
We had the same parents, but two different lifes


Maybe i'm just crazy, and i am reading this wrong
How could he know me, when 50 years he's been gone

I'm the ghost of this man, and im fighting for you all
Dont cry, realize, those are my writings on the wall