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I'll sing to you of days departed, |
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Times when men proud and stouthearted carved their names on history's bloody page, |
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The corpse of chivalry long dead |
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Is turning in his loamy bed indignant at your new 'enlightened' age |
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White-collared knights at boardroom tables dream their own financial fables, |
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Fight to make their incomes larger--mounted on their 'credit charges.' |
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Held within the safety of this mundane existence-- |
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Facing endless grey |
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Mondays of dull nine to fives, |
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We all climb the social ladder with a dogged persistence, |
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Forging chains we shall carry for the rest of our lives. |
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We cannot see through clothes may maketh man they cannot give us shelter-- |
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On this mortal helter-skelter if our loyalties are torn, |
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Between the values we believe in and the egos we are feeding-- |
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We stand all together naked as the day we were born. |
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And so cast off the lies that are our lives and find the truth within. |
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SKYCLAD--the veil has lifted, |
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SKYCLAD--now |
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I see through, |
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SKYCLAD--your mask of illusion, |
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SKYCLAD--to the fake that is you. |
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Financial wizards read their spells from filofaxes |
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Concrete hells of their own making pass for |
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Lost in 'green-belt' dreams they do no wrong. |
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Your mortgage payment rocket-- |
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Like your blood pressure rising, |
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Executive stresses are the dragons you fight. |
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In your Armani armour you are practically shining, |
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So have no code of honour--you must always be right. |
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Just give me a simple life--my tastes are not demanding, |
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And whatever life may hand me |
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I'll accept it with good grace; |
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For I'm just a simple lad with few ideas about my station, |
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So ale and song will apt suffice to keep me in my place. |
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How can you know the cost of everything yet never see its worth? |
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If you think because you've paid the piper you should call the tune-- |
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Well think again my friend life is a gain of chance, |
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By Fate's command we win or lose, |
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But still retain the right to choose |
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If we should stumble on--or shed our cares and dance |
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SKYCLAD--the veil has lifted, |
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SKYCLAD--no |
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I see through, |
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SKYCLAD--your mask of illusion, |
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SKYCLAD--to the fake that is you. |
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You charge each other for the time and breath it takes to say 'good morning,' |
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But the truth is slowly dawning--things are getting out of hand, |
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We all pursue our shattered dreams along the roads to our own ruin-- |
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Watch our empires sink and wash away like castles made of sand. |
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And so cast off the lies that are your lives and find the truth within |
