So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell,
  blue skies from pain.
  Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
  A smile from a veil?
  Do you think you can tell?
  And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?
  Hot ashes for trees?
  Hot air for a cool breeze?
  Cold comfort for change?
  And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?
  How I wish, how I wish you were here.
  We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,
  Running over the same old ground.
  What have you found? The same old fears.
  Wish you were here.