| There’s a man, dressed in green
|
| Think he’s an angel, think he’s an angel
|
| He fights things he can’t see
|
| Feel his frustration, feel his frustration
|
| He crawls upstairs and he’ll weep for a week
|
| I close the doors but I still hear the shrieks
|
| He’s like some fallen, woven piece of art
|
| Keep all the windows shut and under
|
| Lock and key-
|
| Get down the Catterick barracks and hope
|
| When you’re on your knees
|
| Pressure on shoulders that just cannot cope
|
| So break bread with me and my family
|
| Back in the room we started
|
| Breathe in the pure simplicity
|
| Break bread with them, bury the memories
|
| Of those departed
|
| Breathe in the pure simplicity
|
| When the Mosque stops, the Church rots
|
| The Synagogue doors have all been locked
|
| But still, the world turns
|
| When the oil dries, The waves rise
|
| The penitent bombs all drop in time
|
| But still, the world turns
|
| So break bread with me and my family
|
| Back in the room we started
|
| Breathe in the pure simplicity
|
| Back in the room we started
|
| Break bread with them
|
| Back in the room we started
|
| Break bread with me and my family
|
| Back in the room we started
|
| When the Mosque stops, the Church rots
|
| The Synagogue doors have all been locked
|
| But still, the world turns
|
| So break bread with me and my family
|
| But still, the world turns
|
| Break bread with me and my family
|
| But still, the world turns
|
| Break bread with them
|
| And still, the world turns
|
| Break bread with me and my family
|
| There’s a man, dressed in green
|
| Think he’s an angel, think he’s an angel
|
| He fights things he can’t see
|
| Feel his frustrations, feel his frustrations |