The poets and the Socrates was bounding out
Their eulogies about what to do
The troopers with their tangled hair were proven
That they didn't care about nothing newAnd anybody claiming king would strum guitars
And start to sing but they were fooled
The vacuum of their fantasies
Had discover the fact, you see that chaos rulesEverybody run and bare
Not exactly knowing where or why or who
Chasing kicks that no one gets
Kissing on her silhouettes of faded blueTrying to blow one smoke in air
Their favorite answer, I don't care, was useless to
And when the sun would start to fade
This ritual circus of charades would start anew
Songwriters
Sonny BonoPublished by
CHRIS-MARC MUSIC;COTILLION MUSIC, INC.
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