Smokescreen
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In the smokescreen, I can't make out anything.
Shine a moon beam, lead me out of the dream.
Where's the postman? I haven't heard from around.
Call the hangman, cut my sense to the ground.
Please won't you tell me why we spin silent circles?
Can't find the meaning.
In the smokescreen, the hands of time are tied.
Hear the phone ring, but no one's on the line.
The sky's a nightmare, it turns from white to red.
I'm a live man, mistaken for the dead.
Please won't you tell me why we spin silent circles?
Can't find the meaning.
Instrumental.
Please won't you tell me why we spin silent circles?
Can't find the meaning.