作词 : Barrett, Pendragon
The hand that held the gun 
That made the final choice 
Rolls the fine white ivory 
That settles in the dust 
The gentle giant grey shadow moves 
On the chequers board of life 
And falling in slow motion 
To a graveyard in a black square 
Whose father was somebody's 
Saturday afternoon idea of fun 
To go mad with a gun 
Walking in tall grass 
Like walking on broken glass 
Running so free 
Like a young boy 
With the wind in his hair 
They should all be there 
If only somebody cared