If it were within our power
Beyond the reach of slavish pride
To no longer harbour grievances
Behind the masked opportunist's facade

We could welcome the responsibility
Like a long-lost friend
And re-establish laughter
In the dolls' house once again

For time has imprisoned us
In the order of our years
In the discipline of our ways
And in the passing of momentary stillness

We can view our chaos in motion
And the subsequent collisions of fools
Well versed in the subtle art of slavery