I see the pestilence outside my window 
I see the dung heaps piled at least a mile high 
I see the shards of shattered dreams in the street 
I face the morning with my customary sigh I hear the sounds of children laughing aloud 

stumbling wind has attracted quite a crowd My breakfast finished now I brave the outside 
But clouds have hidden all the warmth inside 

Chase these clouds away 
I hate this sunless saturday 

 [bad word] 
For us now
 Light our sky 
Burn away these clouds 

Perhaps the charcoal grey and brown around me
 Is just the mirror image of tainted soul I think the sun will never visit my sky 
Until the [bad word] is seen by each and every eye 

I see the helpless and I see the insane 
I see a pauper singing in the pouring rain 
I see the means of help elude us again 
I think the sun will never visit me again