Lyricist: Howard Jones
By umberto tozzi
As sung by howard jones
I've never been more lonely.
The night is closing in.
I wish for monday morning and the people of the town to heal me,
Like flowers to a cruel sun.
Going thru the motions
With no chance to show their deep emotion.
When they sing and cry
When they live and die
Can't we see other people, those people are us
Angels live inside
Vultures try to hide
In the mirrors we see other people are us
The walls are falling down with the breath of an idea.
See allah in the church and jesus in the mosque.
Our world is turning.
Heros leave behind miles (minds?) of prejudice.
Cowards try to hold the easiness of our division.
As the swallows fly thru leaves of africa
Do they cry as they witness our tears?
Will the hands of needs become the hand of greed?
There will be a time when those people are us.
Living in the world of isolation
Of comfort and tranquility
But sooner or later in this whole world, those people are us
Yes, we are all the same
The nations of the world
Young ones trapped by chemicals, no hope to carry on
The working families
Replaced by metal men
Travelers from the east in their suburban reservations
We are the victims
Of the ruling hands
There will come a time when those people are us
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