Is it really true what they're saying. Are you really sure there's nobody come for me. When I'm walking home there is no-one. Once there was a house, full of laughter - so warm.
A carved oak table. Tells a tale. Of times when kings and queens sipped wine from goblets gold. And the brave would lead their ladies. From out the room to arbours cool.
Rise up! Take your lyre and sing. Listen to the news I bring. . Frosty breath on the window. See a friend in the snow that gently falls. Feel the truth in those sad eyes.
Turn and run. Nothing can stop them. Around every river and canal their. Power is growing. Stamp them out. We must destroy them. They infiltrate each city with their thick dark warning odour.
From a dense forest of tall dark pinewood. Mount Ida rises like an island.. Within a hidden cave, nymphs had kept a child:. Hermaphroditus, son of gods, so afraid of their love..
There is lambs wool. Under my naked feet. The wool is soft and warm. Gives off some kind of heat. . A salamander scurries. Into flame to be destroyed.
That's Me". . Every morning when the people are out. And I'm free move around on my own. I look into the sun and I see a reflection. Of a sad and lonely shrivelled man.
Along the forest road there's hundreds of cars, luxury cars. Each has got its load of convertible bars, cutlery cars, super scars. For today is the day when they sort it out, sort it out.
Taken in, taken in again. Wrapped around the finger. Of some fair-weather friend. Caught up in the promises. Left out in the end. . No pride, taken for a ride.