There is a heaven that is undersung
And when you’re starting you’re always on the bottom rung 
Looking up into the sky
And people act like they’re never going to die 
Spending cash and polluting 
Never really knowing who they’re shooting 
When they fire the gun
And if we are all one 
Then why does the mist fall on the hardest head
To wake us when we’re lying in bed
And they had me tied up in chains 
Straitjacket arms for my pains 
And tear stains 
And I wonder is it taboo to write 
About days when the going was shite 
As I sat in the horrors in the bay 
In Dean Swift hoping something would take me away
And a foreign shore might beckon 
But only something which which I had to reckon 
As I seek to avoid 
Sit in the “activity room” with the boys
And I brought in my guitar 
Because I wanted them to know what you are 
But no one seems to realise 
Their life is flashing before their eyes
And I say nothing is real 
So they hand me something to quench what I feel 
And I can’t cut that deal 
But with repetition they wear me down 
And the doctors don’t wear a gown 
Or shirts and ties 
Jackets to go with the goodbyes 
Only the young ones are in scrubs 
The pretty ones and I fell in love 
Silently then in the noise 
The summer I lost one of the boys