Rumours
All that happens is really inside,
From the love and desire,
To the cosmic tide.
The coming of Christ,
The going of God,
The devil's rise,
The morning fog.
The dark naked nights,
Of torment and fear,
The atomic bomb and the rumours I hear.
From the beginning of time,
Till the end of space,
The prison bars in front of my face.
The labyrinth of lies,
The weaver weaves,
The kaleidoscopes patterns,
Of the autumn leaves.
All born of tears and blood and guts,
Of suffering children crying for love.
The inside is real,
The outside is dead,
An empty shell,
I dreamed in my head.
The you and me,
Are forgotten and gone,
In the rumours I hear,
In the atomic bomb.
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