we're irrelevant

we cannot tell the white cord from the black
all of our hope has gone into the fire
we're still constrained to stay right at the back

if you are honest you'll just get the sack
the one who wins is the outrageous liar
we cannot tell the white cord from the black

no winds are left to lurk within the sack
the statue cannot stand upon the spire
we're still constrained to stay right at the back

the truth is never what's told by the flack
nor what is sung by the most sweet-voiced choir
we cannot tell the white cord from the black

what once was profit now turns into lack
what once we hated now we most desire
we're still constrainted to stay right at the back

through densest bush a way we have to hack
only to find we've fallen in the mire
we cannot tell the white cord from the black
we're still constrained to stay right at the back