richard thompson
crimescene
Broken glass, a broken chair Lamp hangs by a thread Scattered pages, spattered walls Mayhem on the bed  Peace is gone and love is gone and Darkness wins the day A soul is torn away A soul is torn away  A crumpled shirt a hank of hair A shoe print made of blood Phone ripped out, the shades all drawn A life is hammered shut  And I should ball my fists and scream Against the dying of the dream But I can't aim my rage at fate Where's the face to pin the hate?  But I can't aim my rage at fate Where's the face to pin the hate? Where's the face to pin the hate?  A ticket booked, a suitcase packed A diary on the desk Free will's just a walk on part In this ugly humoresque  Peace is gone and love is gone and Darkness wins the day A soul is torn away A soul is torn away  A soul is torn away A soul is torn away  And I should ball my fists and scream Against the dying of the dream But I can't aim my rage at fate Where's the face to pin the hate?  But I can't aim my rage at fate Where's the face to pin the hate?  Here we stand around like victims Waiting for the crime Waiting for the butcher's knife One cut at a time  You plan and he plans You sleep while he steals Your wheels can only spin Inside of other wheels   Peace is gone and love is gone and Darkness wins the day A soul is torn away A soul is torn away  A soul is torn away A soul is torn away