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So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from Hell,
blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field
from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
And did they get you to trade
your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange
a walk on part in the war
for a lead role in a cage?
How I wish,
how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl,
year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have you found?
The same old fears.
Wish you were here.