Whoever you pretend to be, you must face yourself eventually.
The evening sings in a voice of amber, the dawn is surely coming.
Looking so cool, his greed is hard to conceal, he's fresh out of law school, you gave him a license to steal.
We measure our days out in steps of uncertainty not turning to see how far we've come. And peer down the highway from here to eternity and reach out for love on the run.
Only two to three per cent of an audience is interested in words and pays attention to lyrics; most of the rest of it is about image or the beat or the sound, or else it's a tribal thing - country & western, rap, heavy metal, with historical folk rock off in some kind of cult.