So, so you think you can tell Heaven from 
Hell, blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel 
rail? A smile from a veil? Do you think you 
can tell?
And did they get you to trade your heroes 
for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees? Hot air for a cool
breeze?
Cold comfort for change? And did you
 exchange a walk on part in the war for a
 lead role in a cage?
How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls swimming in a 
fish bowl, year after year, Running over
 the same old ground.
What have you found? The same old fears.
Wish you were here.