The bold the brave, the fool who wishes to stay awhile, 

The cold, the canny, the man who demands your hat, 

The hiss and the mist, the shadow of light that dims your eyes, 

If the shelter is home, then it is hell where I roam. 

The path, the glass, the wall which crumbles as you look, 

The screen, the flashes, which dance your imagination of the stage, 

Some maths, some flowers, for the time you spend in fame, 

If the shelter if home, then it is hell where I roam, 

A book I see, with pages gone, a man with a pretty picture, 

Some hope, I’m soaked, for the dreams I have are sunk,

A chair, the back missing, for the land has wished it back,

If the shelter is home dear boy, then it is hell where I roam