The weeks pass by hand in hand With the melting ice in your glass The soldiers have returned from their crusades And landed on the coast Drawn by a spotlight like moths to a flame
Betrayed by the kiss of fame falling to the stage We never fell for fakes or television rage But the truth of it all is the only things you know Are the things you'll never say When you see the close-ups of the emperor's new clothes
The seventh veil has lifted They've opened up the gates And now the price of doing business is the broadcast light I'm busy channel switching myself to sleep They're dancing on a stage or bleeding in the streets
But the truth of it all is the only things you want Are the things you'll never get When you see the close-ups of the emperor's new clothes
