In the spring of ninety eight
We are turning in circles we don't go straight
Political gridlock social deadlock
It's stop and go more stop than go
And it has grown cold overnight
For both young and old there's no light
And no one cares for the man in the street
Promises and prayers don't bring you back to your feet
Where do we go? Tomorrow
Does anyone still know?
Today, can anyone tell?
Heaven from hell, don't we matter anymore?
We're drifting further from the shore
Turn the pages
Nothing changes
Cold is the night
In the spring of ninety nine
We're still turning in circles without reason or rhyme
Changing directions as fast as our clothes
Contradictory remedies won't cure our woes
Even the poets have gone astray
Philosophers muted
When a word would suit
To find us a path, to find us a way
Where do we go? Tomorrow
Does anyone still know?
Today, can anyone tell?
Heaven from hell, don't we matter anymore?
We're drifting further from the shore
Turn the pages
Nothing changes
Cold is the night
But all that we hear
Are black and white schemes
Simplified answers
To our mulicoloured dreams
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