SE NON PUOI ESSERE LA VIA MAESTRA...SII UN SENTIERO. SE NON PUOI ESSERE IL SOLE...SII UNA STELLA. SII SEMPRE IL MEGLIO DI CIò CHE SEI. Martin Luther King
So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell, blue skies from pain. Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail? A smile from a veil? Do you think you can tell? And did they get you trade your heroes for ghosts? Hot ashes for trees? Hot air for a cool breeze? Cold comfort for change? And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage? How I wish, how I wish you were here. We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year, running over the same old ground. What have we found? The same old fears, wish you were here.