The sun is sinking down on the lost parade,
And, all along the dirty street, tattered banners wave,
A hollow victory song is ringing in our ears, drowning out the voices that we fear.
And the big rock spins in space, in it's lonely circle dance,
Like a ghostly ballerina trapped within her trance,
And we praise the feast of fools, and we shun the bread of life,
And the stars shine like the tears of God for the weary world tonight.
Clothed in flesh and bone,
Masters of disguise with rage beneath the painted smiles, fear behind our eyes,
And time's rushing wings shadow all the days, descending like relentless birds of prey.
And the big rock spins in space, in it's lonely circle dance,
Like a ghostly ballerina trapped within her trance,
And we praise the feast of fools, and we shun the bread of life,
And the stars shine like the tears of God for the weary world tonight.
And we praise the feast of fools, and we shun the bread of life,
And the stars shine like the tears of God for the weary world tonight.
