So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell, 
blue skies from pain. 
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail? 
A smile from a veil? 
Do you think you can tell?
 
And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts? 
Hot ashes for trees? 
Hot air for a cool breeze? 
Cold comfort for change? 
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?
 
How I wish, how I wish you were here. 
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year, 
Running over the same old ground. 
What have you found? The same old fears. 
Wish you were here.