Fly Upon the Wall

The mists are always swirling Where the castle wall is cold The night is not for dreamers Or for schemers, or the old For they cannot escape from The fog, the clinging fold The fog, the clinging fold The fog, the clinging fold across the wall In fear or frustration All the discontented crews Gather in the glowing of the slowly-burning fuse And there are no surprises Finding they themselves accused Finding they themselves accused Finding they themselves accused before the wall Unmatched in unimportance All your neon towers rise Crackling with images And Estee Lauder lies The paradox is heightened For you need not advertise You need not advertise There is no need to advertise upon the wall They may take up all my papers They may look into my eyes But they cannot pierce my makeup Or break up my disguise They check me with their mirrors They mate me with their flies They mate me with their flies They mate me with their flies upon the wall