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You live in darkness to spite the sun
You’ll go in shadows
when you think you’ve won
But your excuses precede you,
And your abuses don’t need you—
You know, they just want to bleed you
To see just what you are
You’re forging shackles that you call loyalty
Crawl through the gutters
dressed up like royalty
You don’t dare turn and look behind you;
The past, it might catch up and find you;
The watchmaker might forget to wind you,
When he finds out just what you are
Lear Jets and safe bets are your daily bread
And on our TV sets, well, you shake your head;
You don’t suspect,
but I know what you’re afraid of—
You stand there as if to say,
“Look what I’m made of”—
But I know
who you’re standing in the shade of,
And he knows just what you are
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