What's the reason in reason?
What's the point in proof?
What's it matter how I get there
As long as it ends in Truth?

You're selling lies in the promenade
For fifty hearts a go, not knowing
Where they'll end up at the end of the
Day. Because when you lock the door
At five-p.m. with the brass key tied around your
Neck, you think you've just sold your life when
You've really sold your soul.
In the end, they're all off chasing dreams, flitting
Like butterflies made of solidified air
As you step out into the afternoon sun,
Chasing shadows.

What's the reason in reason?
What's the point in proof?
What's it matter how I get there
As long as it ends in Truth?