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