Time, spent in bare wood aisles
Brain washed crowd in an endless file
Don't see the bigger that
I'm lacking in grand design

Where's the control in that
You see through the tit and tat
Clouds in the azure sky
All I see is vaporised

Life's a novel
Full of leaving
Sunday morning
Kill a heathen

Prayer as a last resort
You see the two-way lacked retort
What if I tried to climb
This hill through your eyes, instead of mine?

Life's a novel
Full of leaving
Sunday morning
Kill a heathen