the breathing of monkeys

symbols and drums behind the working band
our sort of people cannnot find their place
there's not a thing that comes swifter to hand
symbols and drums behind the working band

we find ourselves upon no golden strand
lacking in life true speed and honest grace
symbols and drums behind the working band
our sort of people cannot find their place

honour and joy reflected in each face
given the purpose who would flee the cause
shoes will fall off if you don't tie the lace
honour and joy reflected in each face

we're not the ones who occupy the space
and then complain of all the chinks and flaws
honour and joy reflected in each face
given the purpose who would flee the cause

well ended each awaits the rich applause
deserved by those who beautify the air
in deepest winter we might fear the thaws
well ended each awaits the rich applause

choosing to hate the ones who write the laws
cupboards and minds both turn out to be bare
well ended each awaits the rich applause
deserved by those who beautify the air

we feel the cold when blinded by the glare
the message has to pass from hand to hand
who does not speak must still announce his care
we feel the cold when blinded by the glare

the drums are sounded in the village square
silence will flee the lion-haunted land
we feel the cold when blinded by the glare
the message has to pass from hand to hand