"Do you still see me, even here? The silver cord lies on the ground.
And so I'm dead," the young man said. Over the hills, not to wish away.
My friends as one all stand aligned, although their taxes came too late.
There was a rush along the fullen road. There was a hush in the Passion Play.

Such a sense of glowing in the aftermath, ripe with rich attainment all imagined.
Sadness, deeds in disarray. The sore thumb screams aloud.
Echoing out of the Passion Play.
All the old, familiar choruses come crowding in a different key.
Melodies decaying in sweet dissonance.
There was a rush along the fullen road. Into the air left Passion Play.

And who comes here to wish me well? A sweetly scented angel fell.
She laid her head upon my disper leaf, and bathed me with her ever smile.
And with our howl across the sand, I go escorted by a band of gentle men,
In leather bound. No-one, but someone to be found.

All along the icy wastes, their faces smiling in the gloom.
Roll up, roll down, feeling gone while stepping to the feely broom.
The cameras were all around. We've got you taped; you're in the Play.
Here's your ID, ideal for identifying one and all.
Invest your life in the memory bank, as we interest and we thank you.
The ice-cream lady wet her drawers to see you in the Passion Play.

Take the prize for instant pleasure, captain of the cricket team,
Public streaking in all weather, is the night's up from the queen.

All of your best friends' telephones never cooled from the heat of your hand.
There's the light in the storebanks story, thirteen horses left also ran
Climb in your all come, well up. Does it have the nasty tear in the dome?
But the rain only gets in sometimes, and the sun never leaves you alone.

Lover of the blackened, why did your voice night.
The Passion Play goes all the way, spoils your insight.
Tell me how the baby's made? How the lady's laid? While the old dog howls in sadness.

And your little sister's immaculate virginity winged away on the bony shoulder of a young horse named George, who stole surrepticiously into her Geography revision
The examining body examined her body.

Actor of the low IQ, lets review you.
Peek at the lines upon your sleeves, since your memory won't do.
Tell me how the baby's crade, while the ladies faded.
While the old dogs howl with madness.

All of this and some of that's the only way to skin the cat.
And now you've lost the skin or two where you're for us, and we for you.
The dressing room is right behind. We've got you taped; you're in the Play.
How does it feel to be in the Play? How does it feel to play the Play?
How does it feel to be the Play?

Man of Passion, rise again; we won't cross you out.
For we do love you like a Son; of that there's no doubt.
Tell us: is it you who are here for our good cheer,
Or are we here for the glory, for the story,
For the gory satisfaction of telling you how absolutely awful you really are?

There was a rush along the fullen road. There was a hush in the Passion Play.

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