Joanie lost her man in the city
She said he found a light to run
And the walls keep the clouds from slipping
That’s the way
That’s the way it’s done

Seven took a chance with numbers
Now he’s hiding from the sun
But every now and then he feels the hunger
To review
To undo what he’s done

Brittle are the hands that hold her
And brittle are the words they use
But the medicine is only killing
Every need
Every deed
Every proof

And many more will find this
And leave before it’s done
Many more will find this
And dance into the sun
And dance into the sun

Soliloquies are so demanding
When no one ever seems to hear
The troubadour should choose his wisdom
While we laugh
While we drink
To disappear