Roll us down the mountain and I'm sure the fatman would win.
Too many heroes stepping on too many toes, too many yes-men nodding when they really mean no.
Songs from the wood make you feel much better.
Join the crazed institution of the stars.
Who would be a poor man, a beggar man, a thief, if he held a rich man in his hand?
God of ages, Lord of Time, mine is the right to be wrong.