So I am, held up again, by a demon’s door.
 I check the clock and it’s all ticked off as its shadow paints the floor.
 My fallback plan didn’t turn out sound but I see a way out.
 Damn those eyes and those gormless dice, and the cars dished out.
 
 I hold my breath till the second gong and put the silver files back in the drawer.
 Oh my lord, give me a second chance, give me a few more bars and a sword.
 
 A soldier’s truth in a silent room doesn’t need more light.
 The highlight of a day at work, I sell my soul to suit myself and the rats dress nice.
 
 Take my hand, close your eyes and pray.
 Take a summersault through the day.
 Lift up that chin, let the light back in.
 Let the tears from your pen and the drops from eyes circle in.