The Ghost Trade

We can only blame ourselves for this sickly Ghost Trade
Action turns to gesture, ideas are soon clichéd
Man is but a hat and coat, woman becomes torso
Conveyor-belt of shadows of our former selves

Nothing is quite what it seems
We never say what we mean

No strings attached, we stand or fall left to our own devices
We live our lives all dressed up in Emperor's new clothes

Vectors of pockets and stomachs
Vistas of pain and sorrow
Handfuls of poison and money
Exchange and martyr

This life is hard, this life is cruel
Childhood - occupied zone
In this war of material
I am a cog
We are a wheel

All we ever wanted was sanitary plumbing
Straight roads and a sense of belonging
To a community of interest
That could reasonably call itself civilised
Toeing the party line
Keeping the faith
There's no reason to despair
We are only building upon thin air
Empire-State-Building-Society

Keeping the faith
There's no reason to despair
We are only building upon thin air
Empire-State-Building-Society