After the progress of a score and one centuries
We distrust the right friends and we fear the right enemies
They say that we’re fighting for noble ideals and for hope, but
Listen in close and together we’ll see

That we simply cannot go on like this
But this is not the worst that it could ever be

An emptied-out cartridge, a grenade that’s missing its pin
Can quell any dissent and all forms of argument win
But out there it’s cold and it’s dark, and there’s thunder and lightning
So we’ll all seek asylum in this beautiful state we are in

Him – is it him that we’ve been searching for?
Or is it everyone that we can see?

See the broken old desks all marked up with the last legs of patience
As the eager young learners all snored through the wisdom of ages
The empty dark schoolhouse is buried in layers of dust now
And the stale yellowed chalkboard’s all stained with the musings of ancients

Sense – is it sense that we’ve forgotten now?
How didn’t we notice this before?

Here the roads are all faded with plastecine shadings of dye
And the things that we hear are all jaded and riddled with lies
Could the words that we say even hope to have slightest of impact
On their crooked old ways, or their twisted-up phrasings untie?

I just wanted to make us see
That we have the power to make us free