Nothing Changes on New Year’s Day —
Under a blood red sky A crowd has gathered in black and white Arms entwined, the chosen few The newspaper says, says Say it’s true, it’s true And we can break through Though torn in two We can be one
With a great effort, the rug is moved to one side of the room, revealing the dusty cover of a closed trap door.
Under a blood red sky A crowd has gathered in black and white Arms entwined, the chosen few The newspaper says, says Say it’s true, it’s true And we can break through Though torn in two We can be one