The generation of yard-sweepers and nightwatchmen
Lost track of each other
In the spaces of this endless earth.
Everyone's headed for home.
In our era when every third man's a hero,
They don't send telegrams, they never start writing a tome.
These people, they stand still looking like stone steps
When all the boiling oil flows down the stairs in a barrage,
And from somewhere they imagine somebody singing,
And just who am I, trying to tell them that it's a mirage.
We were silent like dolls while we watched in being sold
All they could possibly sell, including our next of kin.
And the poisonous rain falls into the rot of the bay,
And we still sit here waiting for news,
We still sit here watching the screen.
And our fathers would never lie to us
They do not know how to lie,
Like wolves don't know how to eat red meat,
Like a bird doesn't know how to fly.
So tell me what I have done to you, why all this pain.
But it's without explanation, it's something you have in your blood.
But it was when I lit the flame that burned me out from inside,
Turned away from the law, but never quite made it to love.
Please pray for us, pray for us, if you are able;
We have no more hope, but we're in this collage.
And the voices sound closer and stronger,
I'll be damned if this is just a mirage.