Woe, the face reflected before thee Within polished glass under dim light There is no place for childish fears In a world where all our nightmares are real
In the shadow of the town hall A God of concrete flesh Averts its eyes from sickening scenes Of a rampant lurid disease To be the pig that dreams of flight To be the corpse that dreams of life Shattered in the plainest of sight In a place devoid of sunlight
These demons, realised, ostracised Childhood dreams shattered and burned These demons, realised, ostracised Childhood dreams shattered and burned
Because silence is golden and silence is needed In this situation it’s ever so needed So don’t say a word, my child…
The face within this polished glass Falls into a thousand fragments Lest we silently observe through our tears The curtailment of our children’s innocent yearsTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
