It raises hopes again, steady the sway of it,
no victory in the game, it’s just the play of it.

It makes you drop your guard, it’s not the battle’s end,
no capture of the land, it’s just the lay of it.

No time for winding down, for optimistic ease,
no loosing of this knot, it’s just the fray of it.

You’ve seen this one before, in rosy camouflage,
it’s neither black nor white, it’s just the grey of it.

As good as you admit, as wicked as you think,
no ending of the world, it’s just the way of it.