Sending a friendly hello from the greater unknown.
With one foot toeing the grave
And a heart made of stone.
Now I know that I’m only a slave
To the flesh and the bone--
And I wonder if I could have been brave
Or if I’m all alone.
It’s a dead sort of summer with nothing to do but decay.
A sneaking suspicion of change
Reason cannot allay.
And I find it a little bit strange
I enjoy the cliché,
I’m blind in the firing range
For a touch of fair play.
You cannot remind me, the clock is a dot on the hour.
A silhouette poised in the rain
Or retreat to the shower?
A princess without a campaign
Dies alone in her tower.
These vulgar expressions of pain
Are the signs of our power.
