all hearts are filled with horror and with dread
we've hit the boundary of human reach
out here in the republic of the dead

there's no necessity to get ahead
once we have heard the words of the last speech
all hearts are filled with horror and with dread

for this we struggled long to earn our bread
and bowed low as the vile old friars preach
out here in the republic of the dead

where are are equal in the weight of lead
but none will listen as the poor beseech
all hearts are filled with horror and with dread

at every sound that penetrates the head
while silent men walk up and down the beach
out here in the republic of the dead

where none dare speak and all the good are fled
and what we learnt no one could ever teach
all hearts are filled with horror and with dread
out here in the republic of the dead

we cannot grasp the current situation
our hands are not quite equal to the task
and comrade lenin's at the finland station

all sense has gone from leaders of the nation
while generals have all dived into flask
we cannot grasp the current situation

but know that it's no cause for celebration
as we have reached the bottom of the cask
and comrade lenin's at the finland station

we tried to impose rules of segregation
but found that there were things we could not ask
we cannot grasp the current situation

the masses do not give us admiration
while idle rulers on far beaches bask
and comrade lenin's at the finland station

we find there is no true accommodation
they've seen the monster face behind the mask
we cannot grasp the current situation
and comrade lenin's at the finland station

there is no hope beyond the upper bound
of normal understanding where all mirth
fades into nonsense decent folk of worth
demand some movement onto higher ground
and are not angered at the empty sound
of foolish entities announcing birth
into a world of vacancy and dearth
of absence both astounding and profound
so when we choose against the very grain
of normal love and standardizing time
there is a point when each must hold the line
reject all silly choices and the stain
that comes when every turn must lead to crime
instead look up and note the noble sign

the ones who guide have not seen all the map
but are so confident in their deep sense
of this old world that their most sharp intense
demand does not presage some sort of trap
and yet we fall the pain comes in a slap
we have been fooled there's no means of pretense
the shock is sudden and the hurt immense
and it will take a whole life to unwrap
the meaning that is hidden in the deep
caverns of time in which we now must hide
both pain and fortune still there is a while
between the losses and the hope we keep
where salves exist for both respect and pride
and in that space the memory of a smile

in the beginning the true word was fear
of both the sun and the restraining night
of lack of motion and of urgent flight
the rule was terror on earth and in air
so all would tremble and not one would dare
give voice to fervour  truth is not so light
upon our shoulders nor is human might
so sorely lacking that all must despair
when we are banded there's an end to shock
while sorrow must retreat before clear hearts
and terrors be forgotten once again
when we reject the foolish as they mock
our hard-won knowledge and our certain arts
of patience that beat wisdom out of pain

each stalks the other on the bitter edge
of hill and forest where the winter sun
sheds little warmth but hope enough to run
into dark trees just where the young birds fledge
right past the glades where the spring lovers pledge
up to the hills now when the hunt is done
the rest will know just what reward is won
and what has died upon the mountain ledge
there is a truth beyond all human gain
that we extract from every sacrifice
without regard to what each must endure
just to achieve it both the thrill and pain
that are the fullest payment of the price
and for the which there is no certain cure

in the beginning words are what we make
to fill the spaces that fall in between
the known and human and the dark unseen
void that is home to dragon and to snake
that place of horror where the old gods wake
to force us all to say just what we mean
or else keep silence in that last unclean
home of our hopes there's no room for mistake
what we have found is that the ends are true
but all the roads that take us up deny
the honest vista that could salve the soul
permit clean breath or show one perfect clue
enough for even you to crush the lie
and so arrive at the long-wanted goal