| If I stand up on the wall again
|
| And looking round I see the mote in every eye
|
| And the sky chokes up with dust
|
| That spirals into black infinity and things
|
| And I feel your heat
|
| I feel it all around
|
| Then take my hand
|
| Fade into light
|
| I feel the strain
|
| And you say alright
|
| These things will pass
|
| Nothing can last
|
| At least not like this I think
|
| But how does it feel
|
| Pulled apart by horses that’s how I feel
|
| If I called out all the places where
|
| Brutality still stamps and tramples everything
|
| And the dignity of peoples lives
|
| Lives only in their eyes and in their suffering
|
| For the third and second rate ideas
|
| Whose time has been and gone
|
| Then take my hand
|
| Straighten me out
|
| You say o. |
| k
|
| But be in no doubt
|
| These things exist because of our love
|
| Of cheap ideology
|
| So how does that feel
|
| Pulled apart by horses that’s how I feel |