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 cold 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.

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