miércoles, 28 de enero de 2009

old fears

So, so you think you can tell heaven from hell, blue skies from pain? Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail? A smile from a veil? Do you think you can tell? And did they get you trade your heroes for ghosts? Hot ashes for trees? Hot air for a cool breeze? Cold comfort for change? And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?


How I wish, how I wish you were here. We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year, running over the same old ground. What have we found? The same old fears, wish you were here...

jueves, 15 de enero de 2009