[Verse 1]
Let me tell you the tales of your life
Of your love and the cut of the knife
The tireless oppression, the wisdom instilled
The desire to kill or be killed
Well, let me sing of the losers who lie
In the street as the last bus goes by
The pavements are empty: the gutters run red
While the fool toasts his god in the sky

[Chorus]
So come all ye young men who are building castles!
Kindly state the time of the year
And join your voices in a hellish chorus
Mark the precise nature of your fear

[Verse 2]
Let me help you pick up your dead
As the sins of the father are fed
With the blood of the fools and the thoughts of the wise and
From the pan under your bed
Well, let me make you a present of song
As the wise man breaks wind and is gone
While the fool with the hour-glass is cooking his goose
And the nursery rhyme winds along
[Chorus Extended]
So! Come all ye young men who are building castles!
Kindly state the time of the year
And join your voices in a hellish chorus
Mark the precise nature of your fear
See! The summer lightning casts its bolts upon you
And the hour of judgment draweth near
Would you be the fool stood in his suit of armor
Or the wiser man who rushes clear