Theres something old that calls to me
It speaks through all my dreams
Forever pointing, showing me
That lifes not all it seems
Thats why I cant be like you
Cant share your worldly view
That does not help, I must admit
Cos I dont know what to do
I see it in the ravens flight
Or in the windswept trees
I see it in the cold moonlight
Trapped dreams in a madmans frieze
I see it in the old wild hills
In bracken bruised and soiled
I see it in the many fields
Where centuries have toiled
I feel it most on barren nights
As darkness hits its prime
Why cant you see is it just me?
Your realitys a waste of time
It seems so easy to turn away
To never face another day
Than to keep on looking and find the truth
So all this fades away
How have we got so far off track?
And still not realised
How do these people live their lives?
Without a thought surmised
Is it better just not to know
Than to catch a little truth
What can we do, where can we go
That doesnt end six feet below
It may be better to be unaware
To catch no sight of whats out there
Just worry about TV or paying the bills
Or develop a conscience over societies ills
Cos none of it matters if truth be told
Just a different set of lies to be sold
To comfort us when we grow old
That we lived our lives OK
