
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 cool 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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