Plot Twist

The weeks pass by hand in hand

With the melting ice in your glass

The soldiers have returned from their crusades

And landed on the coast

Drawn by a spotlight like moths to a flame

Betrayed by the kiss of fame falling to the stage

We never fell for fakes or television rage

But the truth of it all is the only things you know

Are the things you'll never say

When you see the close-ups of the emperor's new clothes

The seventh veil has lifted

They've opened up the gates

And now the price of doing business is the broadcast light

I'm busy channel switching myself to sleep

They're dancing on a stage or bleeding in the streets

But the truth of it all is the only things you want

Are the things you'll never get

When you see the close-ups of the emperor's new clothes