Из альбома: Kettles of Fish on the Outskirts of Town
I'm a tired old man in a tired old land
Watching shadows moving across the sand;
Now they move at night and I understand
That they cannot see more than they can stand.
I have been decieved, I have murdered and
I have seen the soul of an unborn lamb;
It can burn a hole in a guilty man,
But it cannot stand in a distant land.