His colours clash, he consecrates his ash
To the Guild Hall floor
He has a studio complexion, a hardened reflection
Jacket pocket lyrics that tell all
His soul is stained, his mood's not the same
As it was the night before
He hums a number in Guild Hall penumbra
Stops to listen to the mirror on the wall -
"It's so simple - just turn your back and leave her
So simple - just bite your lip and try
So simple - just smile and disbelieve her
So simple - just leave in the dead of night"
The hall is quiet in afternnoon light
Shadows sniff at his heel
His cigarette's a tiny red rocket
On a shaky Ferris wheel
He feels like a city, no room for pity
No compassion for the weak
His Angels clash, he contemplates his ash
As the mirror begins to speak
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