作词 : Charlie Rose
作曲 : Charlie Rose
Thinning walls part sense and hysteria
The tired cling to the gloss of nostalgia
There is comfort in the spectre of nation
Gather the weary running blind
No war pure enough to peel the wool from their eyes
But for all your books built on blood 
have ever had to count the bodies?

Tortured reality
Flailing at the centre
Tortured reality
Cradling the spool

Self-preservation built on blood
The ‘end’ delivered out of sight
Is it discipline, delusion or fear?
Corrections rotating on and on

Tortured reality
Flailing at the centre
Tortured reality
Cradling the spool
And will it all remain adrift
as another cloud plumes
below a fading sun?