Perfect

It's a chilly English winter and solitude is never easy to maintain
Except when it rains
So I hang an empty smile beneath my empty eyes
And go out for a walk
The wet morning sun reflects off the paving stones
While a little dog barks it's head off ... in the distance

Oh what a perfect day to think about myself
My feet are firmly screwed to the floor
What is there to fear from such a regular world?

Passing by a cemetery I think of all the little hopes and dreams
That lie lifeless and unfulfilled beneath the soil
I see an old man fingering his perishing flesh
He tells himself he was a good man and did good things
Amused and confused by life's little ironies
He swallows his bottle of distilled damnation

Oh what a perfect day to think about myself
My feet are firmly screwed to the floor
What is there to fear from such a regular world?

People trot around with unseeing eyes
They're looking for something that doesn't exist
The world we once knew is being eaten up by rust
No-one has time for the past but still in God they trust
The future is now, but it's all going wrong
Bodies queue for nothing for it is to nothing they belong
People say their prayers and some work hard
If you give them all your money, they'll give you their hearts
This town ain't getting like a ghost town
It's getting like hell

Oh what a perfect day to think about myself
My feet are firmly screwed to the floor
What is there to fear from such a regular world?