When the stories have gone and the shadows
Of a life we used to lead
And the corporate hell and the groundswell
Of a life that turns into dust
And we go high and burn low
Some days I don't want to see
And we go high and burn low
Some days I don't want to see
And we wash it away as our souls burn
The hands of fate we don't see
And the springs of the past, they overflow
Like the Thames it's bursting its banks