Description
Tuning: FACGCE
Lyrics:
I have got my own
Little telephone home
With a cellophane throne
I was overthrown by my shinbone
How should we proceed
Should our hair recede
In our time of need
Do we just concede the victory cannot exceed our own misdeeds
Find another place
Turn to aerospace
For the human race
Find ourselves displaced from our birthplace
What a novel trend
Fashion we amend
Money we misspend
May our look transcend the woolen blend of fabric on which we depend
What is left to see
Do we have time grieve
Is it time to leave
Is it kind to leave
Our dearly bereaved
On their own
What is left to need
Are we truly free
Are we meant to be
Are we foolishly
Chasing empty dreams
Of a world
That went up flames
Long before we were born
Though the past was warned
They were unconcerned
Leaving us forlorn
shattered shells
Of what used to be
Do we have time to grieve
Is it time to leave
Do we have time to leave
will we be deceived
By them
Once again