The, The

It's a chilly English winter
And solitude is never easy to maintain
Except when it rains
So I hang an empty smile beneath my empty eyes
And go out for a walk
The wet morning sun reflects off the paving-stones
While a little dog barks its head off
In the distance
Oh, what a perfect day
To think about my silly world
My feet are firmly screwed to the floor
What is there to fear from such a regular world?
Oh, what a perfect day
To think about my silly world
My feet are firmly screwed to the floor
What is there to fear from such a regular world?
Passing by a cemetery
I think of all the little hopes and dreams
That lie lifeless and unfilled beneath the soil
I see an old man fingering his perishing flesh
He tells himself he was a good man and did good things
Amused and confused by life's little ironies
He swallows his bottle of distilled damnation
People turn around with unseeing eyes
They're looking for something that doesn't exist
The world you once knew is being eaten up by rust
No-one has time for the past
But still in God they trust
The future is now
But it's all going wrong
Bodies good for nothing
But it's to nothing they belong
People say their prayers and some work hard
If you give them all your money
They'll give you their hearts
This town ain't going like a ghost town
It's going like hell
Oh, what a perfect day
To think about my silly world
My feet are firmly screwed to the floor
What is there to fear from such a regular world?
(repeats)