Sky Beneath My Feet

O come ye young of Hamlyn
You who know my tune so well
Where it beckons, so you follow
Be it Heaven, be it Hell
Forget your mothers grieving
As I pipe you down the street
With a shilling in my pocket
And the sky beneath my feet.

Chameleons bask in the 'arc-light' reflection, awaiting a chance curtain call
And here from the wings I have watched them and wondered if God does exist after all
On life's Ferris Wheel all the dreamers ride free, from the top you can only go down
No one but yourself is to blame if you presume to walk upon water then drown.

Now your bridges are burned, it is time that you learned there is no turning back
All your airs and graces should vacate their places for the qualities you lack
Though empty vessels made most sound not one wise word was said
Vainglory hunters seek their prey where angels fear to tread.

Follow me, follow and I will lead with truth that hurts like stick and stone
When rats their scuttled ships departed, birds of a feather sought their own
To make their dreams a lantern that outshines the brightest star
Turn whispers into battle cries the winds shall carry far
When hearts shielded by conviction, keeping beats so pure and strong
Are at last as one united, a communion of steel - The Sword of Song.

We gathered together as sister and brother to dance when the world was abed
Until the next dawn in the grey light of morning these lambs to the slaughter were. led
Out of the shadows these vagabonds congregate, those who have stuck to their guns
While tinseltown satellites frantically circulate orbiting mirror-ball suns.

I will not play a part in this infantile farce, your offer I decline
Building walls of pretension to conceal your intentions was just a waste of time
Though in your life of make-believe the best things came for free
Why should I trust my plans in the 'capable' hands of a shallow fool like thee.

Follow me, follow and I will lead with truth that hurts like stick and stone
When rats their scuttled ships departed, birds of a feather sought their own
The goose that lays the golden egg, I'll sacrifice and bury it
If you don't believe me watch me as upon its grave I spit
Worldly treasures have no worth but self-respect is beyond price
And Hell's the best alternative when faced with your fool's paradise.

Some say I bite the hand that feeds but to these disillusioned eyes
'Tis sweet revenge to watch it bleed it has only fed me lies
The dead horses you were flogging could not rise and stand upon its legs
Behold the leper-minstrel has been cured and nevermore shall beg.