Tin Drum

There’s an old man talking
To a young boy weeping
To an old man shaking his head
There’s a cool gentle breeze
In the night full of light
As the red glow wavers in the stead
There’s a black man crying
And a white man dying
And a black man’s head in the air
The shock of life
Feeds the fight
The fight that’s in my head
Holding tight in the stillness of the night
In the stillness of my thoughts
Yet, I know I’ve only started

Beating on a tin drum marching to a sound
What is it I think?
Am I beating on a tin drum marching to a cause
When I don’t know what it is I believe

Lonely peeping chick
Calling to his mother
Runs amuck
In a sunken black ditch
And Wilhelm’s with the widow
While Martha’s in the meadow
And the lamb is a laying in sick
And the boy in back
Is talking some slack
To the king of auld lang syne
And my heart goes out
But I cannot spout what I do not know inside

Holding to a tin drum, marching to a sound
What is it that I think
Am I beating on a tin drum, marching to a cause
when I don’t know what it is I believe
I believe, I believe
And I beating on a tin drum marching to a cause
when I don’t know what it is I believe
Holdin’ to a tin drum, marching to a sound
What is it that I think?
I?m beating on a tin drum marching to a cause
when I don’t know what it is I believe, I believe
Beating on the drum beating on the drum
beating on a cause
It really is a lie
Am I beating on a drum?
Beating on a lie, a lie, a lie-ha-high!