The Mood

There's a new wave of barbarism
Washing round the world
As the spinning-wheel of cycles spins again.
There's a sense of savage places
And a fear in people's faces
And a folly in the wickedness of men.

There's an empty formless feeling
Of the night-watch tower pealing
While the shadow-shapes swing reeling
Through the air.
Like a dream in black and red
Creatures underneath your bed
And when was it last you said
A simple prayer?

There's a new age of barbarism
Sweeping round the world
There are helmets being burnished
And old battle-flags unfurled.

Another age of fright
From the shadows in the night
As the spinning-wheel comes spinning round again.