(Hammill, Part II : Vanblow)

I never thought it could come to this,

as you sit there crying,

hanging on with your fingertips

to something that's already dead.

Now we're into a game

and it's all a bit strange.

Once on a time we were sincere;

now, we're acting charades,

hiding behind cracked images

from other people's stages;

now, we're into a game,

and it's all a bit strange,

but familiar, too...

the rules never change; I know it, but do you?

I've seen it all before,

and this play no longer moves me,

but the closing of a door

is never easy.