I’m in a house with too many walls/
Stood in breezy corridors/
And its cold and getting colder/
Your whisper seems to float in the air/
Just hung over are heads, waiting to fall/
Like a moth to a flame I’d rather burn for curiosity.

In the night I hear chants that have now become familiar/
Slagging matches get rowdy/
And the crowd they just sing along/
Waiting for a new sun/
Are we ready for new responsibilities?

Take a bow/
Its should have gone long ago/
Its over/
Burn it/
It won’t happen again/
What’s said has now been done.