(Chris DeGarmo, Eddie Jackson, Scott Rockenfield, Geoff Tate, Michael Wilton)
    Watching the sand fall,
    listening for the knock
  upon my door,
  and waiting. . .
  for Promised Land.
    Standing neck deep in life,
  my ring of brass
  lay rusting on the floor.
  Is this all?,
  because it's not what I expected.
    Somewhere along the way
  friends I once held close
  fled the fast lane.
  I didn't notice,
  I just had to make it.
  head down, nose to the grindstone;
  the kiss of life
  placed on my brow
  somehow slid to the ground
  and lies buried six feet under.
    Preaching from the floor again
  the same old sad song,
  "Bartender . . . bring another drink for their favorite son."
    Where did it all go wrong?
  What's the use in even holding on?
  Here's to love, hate . . . and promises.
    Almost called it today.
  Turned to face "The Void"
  numb with the suffering
  and the question,
  "Why am I. . . ?"
  So many times I've
  tried and failed to
  gather my courage, reach again for that nail.
  Life's been like
  dragging feet through sand,
  and never finding . . . Promised Land.
    Preaching from the floor again
  the same old sad song,
  "Bartender . . . bring another drink for their favorite son."
  Where did it all go wrong?
  I feel like I'm dying.
  Here's to love, to hate,
  to promises and Promised Land lies.