To each dream its fragrance
To each life its dread
To each angst its pain
To each truth its rumour
We have lost our cause
We have drained this fear
With burning glass
With another cheap thrill
Its trust regained
Its strife remote
So be unkind or be sedated
Did tomorrow swear not to spare itself
Nor anyone else?
Anyone else?
To prepare you,
To prepare your minds
For the part you must play in this great war