Just a step cried the sad man 
Take a look down at the madman 
Theatre kings on silver wings 
Fly beyond reason 
From the flight of the seagull [bad word] the spread claws of the eagle 
Only fear breaks the silence 
As we all kneel pray for guidance 

Tread the road cross the abyss 
Take a look down at the madness 
On the streets of the city 
Only spectres still have pity 
Patient queues for the gallows 
Sing the praises of the hallowed 
Our machines feed the furnace 
If they take us they will burn us 

Will you still know who you are 
When [bad word] to who you are 

When the flames have their season 
Will you hold to your reason 
Loaded down with your talents 
Can you still keep your balance 
Can you live on a knife-edge