From Here - New Model Army

From the concrete cities

To the wide open spaces

Everything is in tension

And waiting

There’s a little gust of wind

And then stillness

A little creak of the timbers

And then silence

We love gallows humour

But there must be a gallows

And a masked pied piper

That everybody follows

We will grow weary of ourselves

And we will dream a king

Then we will bury ourselves

Trouble always begins

With the naming of things

Like gods and desires

And lines in the sand

And now all the sense of scale is gone, and the splinters think they’re trees

And the stones believe they’re mountains, and the rivers think they’re seas

And we all gaze down like little gods, our feathers think they’re wings

And the glass believes it’s diamond, and the courtiers think they’re kings

And the more of this we take inside, the stupider we become

The rose and glow of approaching fire, mistaken for the rising sun

I am the master of nothing, repeat after me

I am the master of nothing

I’ve tried never to press to hard

I’ve never wanted to leave a mark

I’m good with disappearing

Like I was never there

I’ve always tried never to press to hard

Never wanted to leave a mark

I’m good with disappearing

Like I was never there

Never there

Now all sense of scale is gone, and the splinters think they’re trees

And the stones believe they’re mountains, and the rivers think they’re seas

And we all gaze down like little gods, our feathers think they’re wings

And the glass believes it’s diamond, and the courtiers think they’re kings

And the more of this we take on board, the stupider we become

The rose and glow of approaching fire, mistaken for the rising sun

So let’s all go home now

Look ourselves in the mirror

Throw our heads back and laugh