through the shadowmask
light comes in fragments
the wasted ambitions
of a generation confused
by the fuzzy warmth
of a foreign dream
a distant screen
what is real and what is dream
our day to day fictions
the guidelines of our dealings
our day to day feelings
the joys we feel
a script surreal
a serial
the temptation to run
steal away into the wild
delve into the real rush
of our distant fathers
the young men of this day
let out a quiet scream
we share a dying dream
burried under the tonnage
of a foreign dream
on a distant screen