jueves, abril 03, 2008


So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell, blue skies from pain. Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail? A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts? Hot ashes for trees? Hot air for a cool breeze? Cold comfort for change? And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?

We're just lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year, running over the same old ground. What have you found?

The same old fears.
"Wish you were here" Pink Floyd