Are you that blind man

In a house full of mirrors

Or has this life finally

Reached your ears

To talk with you

And walk with you

And spell out

All of your fears

Sorry little horseman

Your ride has a fallen

The charade is over

And mother is calling

Get up from your hide-a-bed

And answer the becken

Or the demons in the dark

Will come collecting,

How do you feel?

Do you find it amusing

To watch others

Tumble and squeal?

Or was balance

Thrown off when

You got the deal?

Are your walls

All padded from

Executive stress

And your lear jet

Now owned by

The I.R.S.?