Ricochet
Like weeds on a rockface waiting for the scytheRicochet - ricochetThe world is on a corner waiting for jobsRicochet - ricochetTurn the holy pictures so they face the wallAnd who can bear to be forgottenAnd who can bear to be forgotten
March of flowers, march of dimesThese are the prisons, these are the crimesMen wait for news while thousands are still asleepDreaming of tramlines, factories, pieces of machineryMine shafts, things like thatMarch of flowers, march of dimesThese are the prisons, these are the crimesSound of thunder, sound of goldSound of the devil breaking paroleRicochet - it's not the end of the world
Sound of thunder, sound of goldSound of the devil breaking paroleRicochet - ricochetThese are the prisons, these are the crimesTeaching life in a violent new wayRicochet - ricochetTurn the holy pictures so they face the wallAnd who can bear to be forgottenAnd who can bear to be forgotten
March of flowers, march of dimesThese are the prisons, these are the crimesEarly, before the sun, they struggle off to the gatesIn their secret fearful places they see their lives unravelling before themMarch of flowers - march of dimesThese are the prisons, these are the crimesSound of thunder, sound of goldSound of the devil breaking paroleRicochet - it's not the end of the world
That's when they get home, damp eyed and wearyThey smile and crush their children to their heaving chestsMaking unfulfillable promisesFor who can bear to be forgotten