Demons and Angels,

they are all the same;

Spirits long caught

in a wild cosmic game.

We dance to their tune

to a rhythm unknown;

we drink from a cup

the Wild Ones have sown.

We think we are mighty,

we think we know all

but we live out our lives

at their beck and call.

We are simply slaves

with Masters long forgot

but at their slightest need

we’re off at full trot.

We stand in a doorway

with freedom behind.

If only we’d look

then surely we’d find

a slave is a slave

if they bear the pain

a madman’s not mad

if he won’t be insane.