You’ll make your way with a bag in each hand
one of green and one of blue.
The room will be filled with people talking
but none of them will talk like you.
You won’t know left from right
and there won’t be nobody walking by you.
You give your ticket to the train conductor
but he won’t take it from you.
You’ll turn your head to the side and back up to the wall
until the gold-time comes and a hand appears.
But for now child, but for now child, dry your tears.
The alley is filled with scratching sounds
and you’ll press your eyes into the floor.
Two men will be fighting for you
as you’re pressed like a pig against the door.
The world will be grey, it won’t be night or day
and each time you move your blood will leak.
You’ll be red-eyed from the twisted tunnel
that blows against the words you speak.
You’ll be questioned, you’ll be misunderstood
until the gold-time comes and a man appears.
But for now child, but for now child, dry your tears.
You won t see nobody anywhere;
you’ll be standing at the cross of space and time.
Blue trees will comfort you,
the roads will be stretched flat and wide. You will,
you’ll button up your overcoat
and you’ll stand like a soldier in the wind.
Time will start turning backwards
until you’re far younger than a child again.
The wind will blow through you like an open door
until the gold-time comes and a shine appears.
But for now child, but for now child, dry your tears.