Am I in there with the crowd?
That stagnant incense and heavy heat.
As he watched a deaf head bowed,
Am I in there with the crowd?
Vision narrowed by infringing cloud.
To shelter outside on the moonless street.
Am I in there with the crowd?
That stagnant incense and heavy heat.

Can you hear my troubled mind?
So heavy the traffic inside my head.
To which my Christmas had resigned.
Can you hear my troubled mind?
The imperfect vessel he had designed,
inclined to follow and be misled.
Can you hear my troubled mind?
So heavy the traffic inside my head.

Did I believe I was there at all?
Back against the stained glass glow.
A slimy trail, pathetic and small.
Did I believe I was there at all?
Prayer as an orphan call.
Into the night, my prayers I throw.
Did I believe he was there at all?
Back against the stained glass glow.