| Black crows in the summer sky. |
| Wheat fields turned to gold
|
| Workers in the blazing sun. |
| Forests in the cold
|
| Farmers in a cabin room. |
| Portraits of your eyes
|
| Look at me in painful gloom, they’ve seen so many lies
|
| You who love the truth, you who love the truth
|
| You who love the truth have seen, so many lies
|
| Skeletons smoke cigarettes. |
| A blazing sun that never sets
|
| A purple forest in the haze. |
| Hands that know of common ways
|
| Some survive their shattered dreams, but you are lost in colour schemes
|
| Falling down between the seams, you’ve seen so many lies
|
| You who love the truth, you who love the truth
|
| You who love the truth have seen, so many lies
|
| I wonder how you’d feel today, if you knew the millions that they’d paid
|
| For canvas glowing with your heat, shown in airconditioned suites
|
| With glass and steel and carpet floors, stored in crypts as cold as yours
|
| Portraits of your bleeding eyes, eyes that saw so many lies
|
| You who love the truth, you who love the truth
|
| You who love the truth have seen, so many lies
|
| You who love the truth, you who love the truth, you who love the truth |