Future Song

Walked into swing doors
Climbed in through dusty windows
Walked in the dark museum
Wandering in gambling green belts
Fell into futures
Lined up in dusty grey beam rows
Slept on the tables
Covered in gambling green felt
But the place you have to find is not in sight
When you take the road to cities of last night

Laughed in the dark rooms
Basins where faces had flowered
Danced in the lighthouse
Grinning at seas under black foam
Fell into mirrors
Faces that time overpowered
Prized open Parliament
Places the inmates had outgrown
But I came back home to pick up my beliefs
And I found them trodden down in fields of grief

Went through the records
Lies that the reapers had planted
Went down the river
Past all the brief floating cases
Tried hard to stop the crash
Everyone took it for granted
Passed by the front doors
Homes holding on by the braces
But the place you have to find is not in sight
When you take the road to cities of last night