dance before the storm

these are dangerous time we live in, i heard a man once say, if you're prone to flights of fancy, your dreams can fly away, see the sights around you, of breakdown and decay, wrought by the greed for a better life, for which you have to pay, from glasgow town to london, down the motorway, there's people standing in the rain, looking for any way, to take them down to where they're bound, it's a part of another way, it's called the art of survival, in a modern age, dance before the storm, don't look back to where you've been, the horror's even further, as the sands of time run thin, dance before the storm, as the machinery breaks down, watch the sky go black with anger, but no one makes a sound, from albion hill to the old chain pier, you can hear a person say, spare some change for all me pains, so if your head spins round, go underground, away from the games they play, people down there are trying to care, and let each one have their say, it's not revolution tactics, or cause for anarchy, just a natural fight for a natural life, of which systems are afraid, and if it all surrounds you, seems like there's no escape, and there's someone stood in front of you, saying do it in their way, turn your eyes towards the tides, see how they never change, the sands of time will break their mime, like riding on a wave