The abbey wall is plastered with gun shot
hiding a stairway that leads thru the clouds
He left the knave with a boiling pot
and a woman screaming thru a shroud
She’s covered with shadows from his silky wings
and her knees are as dirty as she’s proud
You know it’s just the same old thing
tasting things her mother wasn’t allowed

The tower is toppling toward the street
with a terrapin jumping off the ledge
not really knowing the ground when they meet
but ready and willing to take the pledge
the flowers make in winter to spring
before joining the cold over summers edge
you know its just the same old thing
staring at the street from behind a hedge

The prison cell is all that still stands
the bars of the cage hold no wind in
as it tempts the bell to ring up the land
If I ask you can you say where it’s been
or can you tell me the notes it sings
when I make gold out of iron and tin
you know its the same old thing
one mans pleasure is another mans sin.