All Man

There is no one left to love here

All men must lose their own

All the lovers all the children

Every single damn one

Whoa o oh, whoa o oh

There is nothing left to see here

All men must be alone

All the statues all the paintings

Every hand carved stone

Whoa o oh, whoa o oh

All these things we clutch in our dying hand

Tombstones turn to rubble than to sand

There is nothing left to say here

We will all die alone

And our blood turns to ashes

And our bones grow cold

All these things we clutch in our dying hand

Tombstones turn to rubble than to sand

All these things we clutch in our dying hand

Tombstones turn to rubble than to sand

We have something left to say here

Even if we die alone

Don't waste a single damn minute

Of this short hard life

Live each day with love and laughter

Let it echo through time

We have something left to say here

Even if we die alone

Whoa o oh, whoa o oh