Blessed be the tailors
The masks are cut to fit
Blessed be the woodworkers
The crosses and the gallows
Blessed be the forgers of iron
And the spikes and the barbwire
Blessed be the stone cutters
It took a quarry to bury the dreams.
Blessed be the tailors
The masks are cut to fit
Blessed be the woodworkers
The crosses and the gallows
Blessed be the forgers of iron
And the spikes and the barbwire
Blessed be the stone cutters
It took a quarry to bury the dreams.
A Poet and The Muse sing the same tunes.
When the sky is on fire
And the heavens descend
All you can do is just keep on breathing
You keep on breathing
Tell me now is there difference
Between a shark and the ghost of a shark
'Cause all I have are secrets and memories of the dark
Oh rip away the skin burn my heart
И все они играют на поле для гольфа,
И пьют свой сухой «Мартини».
И у всех них замечательные дети.
И дети ходят в школу,
И дети ездят в летний лагерь,
А затем ходят в университет,
Где их помещают в классы-коробки,
И они выходят оттуда все одинаковые.
И мальчики идут в бизнес,
И женятся, и растят детей,
В домах-коробочках of ticky tacky [из дешевого, непрочного материала],
И все они выглядят совсем одинаково.
And they all play on the golf course
And drink their martinis dry,
And they all have pretty children
And the children go to school,
And the children go to summer camp
And then to the university,
Where they are put in boxes
And they come out all the same.
And the boys go into business
And marry and raise a family
In boxes made of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.