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.