Backstage (Don't Ask)

I believe you knew
What you were doing
Actors backstage
Talking trash, bracing for the fall
Pacing, retracing
The look on your face says it all
Says, «How the hell can you tell?
This will set me back years»
Oh, and I know it
I believe you knew
What you were doing
A new dawn, new day
New rifle to fight a new war
Cameras flash, markets crash
I don’t ask anymore
'Cause how the hell can you tell
When it’s lasted years?
I don’t know if
I believe you knew
What you were doing
We hardly need to be reminded that we are living in an age of confusion.
Opinion can be picked up cheap from the marketplace. Around us all,
now high like a distant thunderhead, now close upon us with the wet,
choking intimacy of a London fog, there is an enveloping cloud of fear.
What crew can a human being afford to furnish the cluttered, nervous room of
his mind with, when he has no real idea how long a lease he has on the future?