| The hour is out of joint
|
| Black sun has risen
|
| And the river of words
|
| Is flowing on through
|
| The cages of tradition
|
| And they’re handing out emptiness
|
| We’ll take it cos it’s given
|
| Free with this plastic innocence
|
| And these standards of living
|
| Questions lighted questions
|
| Burnin' holes into my head
|
| Hanging like shadows o’er the sun
|
| Staring out like the eyes of the dead
|
| And sometimes my soul flickers
|
| When the wind of change blows cold
|
| Over the mire of repetition
|
| Down the corridors of rigmarole
|
| What I say, what I think
|
| What I put down in ink
|
| I’m only trying to find a way to understand
|
| And I mean no harm
|
| I’m just searching for calm
|
| In the storm of mankind
|
| Do you find it there
|
| In the sea of faces
|
| That drowns you everyday
|
| Or in the silence and rubble and empty spaces
|
| Where children and rottweilers play
|
| Is it buried in the praise
|
| Given so cheap
|
| With a meaningless movement of the jaws
|
| In the looking glass
|
| That flatters you
|
| Or in the rattle of hollow applause
|
| Blind circle, moon and sun body willing, mind undone
|
| One pain ending while another begins
|
| Lies, ruin disease
|
| Into wounds like these
|
| Let the truth sting
|
| From the hub to the limit
|
| Through the urban hollows
|
| Out into the poles of the extreme
|
| To echo through the numbness
|
| Of these godless minutes
|
| In the shadow of delusion’s regime
|
| And here watching the night
|
| As it opens like a flower
|
| And the day starts to rust
|
| Feeling time pound
|
| Like a silent hammer
|
| On this empire of dust
|
| And I’m thinking bout the bullet
|
| And the TV screen, the dollar, and the clenched fist
|
| And if we’re searching for peace
|
| How come we still believe
|
| In hatred as the catalyst
|
| Oh through the borderline
|
| In front and behind
|
| One pain ending
|
| While another begin
|
| Lies, ruin disease
|
| Into wounds like these |