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Can You Believe that I've had a reprieve
From the down and the dirty and lame
Is it taken for fact, that not one will act
The blind, the forgiven or sane

Towers of sand, and the sleight of a hand,
Where all the kings horses have trod
Agast with the thrill, of a two dollar bill,
And the spit and the polish of sod

Up against me, and the wonder of Troy
And the smile on a dog you once knew
We’re cooped up in here, with the smell of despair
And the ghost of a bird that once flew

So take it from me, I'd take you to task,
I'll give 'til it hurts or we're free.
And each of the wild ones, under their masks,
Will turn, run screaming and flee...

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