One, two, three, four...
And I've grown cold...
Twenty four hours is just two plus four,
Where the god and the road and the telephone pole
Meet my faith, and my faith gets crucified.
Forty years of loneliness on a cold wet floor
Where four square walls form a perfect vault;
Not a ray of light, not a hidden door,
So the palms of my hands become my eyes.
All my sailors've drowned and long time gone
To the bottom of deaf unspoken grief...
Two plus four is just six. What can be done
If there's no one to sing to?
And no belief
And no meaning and night is all that's left...
To plus four is just six.
And you are...