Theres something old that calls to me

It speaks through all my dreams

Forever pointing, showing me

That lifes not all it seems

Thats why I cant be like you

Cant share your worldly view

That does not help, I must admit

Cos I dont know what to do



I see it in the ravens flight

Or in the windswept trees

I see it in the cold moonlight

Trapped dreams in a madmans frieze

I see it in the old wild hills

In bracken bruised and soiled

I see it in the many fields

Where centuries have toiled



I feel it most on barren nights

As darkness hits its prime

Why cant you see is it just me?

Your realitys a waste of time

It seems so easy to turn away

To never face another day

Than to keep on looking and find the truth

So all this fades away



How have we got so far off track?

And still not realised

How do these people live their lives?

Without a thought surmised

Is it better just not to know

Than to catch a little truth

What can we do, where can we go

That doesnt end six feet below



It may be better to be unaware

To catch no sight of whats out there

Just worry about TV or paying the bills

Or develop a conscience over societies ills

Cos none of it matters if truth be told

Just a different set of lies to be sold

To comfort us when we grow old

That we lived our lives OK