Don't hang around, son, blacked out by fear
All bits of reason are lost in a smear
Out of our reach, and beyond our ideas
There's a world we all seek that's beginning to tear
Don't mess around, son, we will need you here
The dust's about to fall and the smoke's about to clear
Far from the edge 'neath a sky, dull and drear
Never to free your soul from its toils and its snares
Out with the old and in with the blue
I surmise I won't have any answers for you
Climb the walls, there's no lesson in this scrawl
I am sure I don't have any answers at all
Should you accept you were holding the gun
Meditation, aggravation, makes it all come undone
Out with the old and in with the blue
I've been told I don't have any graces, it's true
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