I am a dancing bear You are a magazine We are a mess of holes Shaking from head to toe If we only knew the answers we could print them up onto T-shirts We could sing for revolution, we could fight all our wars and win them Or while away the summer days in a day-dream None of this can be bought None of this can be sold Safe in the frame we find But for the letting go You can hide your desperation from yourself and from your children But you cannot contain the terror, or your loss of poise and diction This phantom life is cast aside, at the moment you most need it