Losing It

(álbum: Signals - 1982)

The dancer slows her frantic pace in pain and desperation
Her aching limbs and downcast face aglow with perspiration
Stiff as wire, her lungs on fire with just the briefest pause
The flooding through her memory, the echoes of old applause

And she limps across the floor
And closes her bedroom door

The writer's stares with glassy eyes defies the empty page
His beard is white, his face is lined
And streaked with tears of rage
Thirty years ago, how the words would flow
With passion and precision
But now his mind is dark and dulled by sickness and indecision

And he stares out the kitchen door
Where the sun will rise no more

Some are born to move the world, to live their fantasies
But most of us just dream about the things we'd like to be
Sadder still to watch it die than never to have known it

For you, the blind who once could see
The bell tolls for thee
The bell tolls for...

For you, the blind who once could see
The bell tolls for thee
The bell tolls for thee