So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell
Blue skies from pain
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?

And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war
for a lead role in a cage?

How I wish, how I wish you were here
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl
year after year
Running over the same old ground
What have we found?
The same old fears
Wish you were here

foda-se, há dias em que as nossas almas, se prostam diante os desígnios: talvez a auto-percepção do 'caminho individual' nasça dentro de um útero forrado de labirínticas iluminações - o inferno é um lago luminoso.

Pink Floyd - Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun