There's a man at hand, there's a way between   The sinking sand and a crooked dream   And collared off at the modern age of nine   Summoned off for walking down the line      They lost eyes in old city streets   Where the funeral pyres burned the last of the meek      He filled his boots and he tipped his cap   And a root to toot with the boss and that   And told a girl of the summer by the sea   Said to her, would you like to go with me?      Wind is turned and the concord trucks   And the singers changed and the hard to soft   And in with changes, always out with time   Nothing left but walking down the line      They lost eyes in old city streets   Where the funeral pyres burned the last of the meek      Dragging loose less through the den   And I come out less with sporting wear   More to fit than you'd be feeling now   She is aware that he is always how      Then her sweetness and his sweeter scented   And her fury's swimming till the fury's bended   And lost in all might be to lost in time   What joy the darts might be to walk the line      They lost eyes in old city streets   Where the funeral pyres burned the last of the meek      They lost eyes in old city streets   Where the funeral pyres burned the last of the meek      They lost eyes in old city streets   Where the funeral pyres burned the last of the meek