There's an old man talkingnTo a young boy weepingnTo an old man shaking his headnThere's a cool gentle breezenIn the night full of lightnAs the red glow wavers in the steadnThere's a black man cryingnAnd a white man dyingnAnd a black man's head in the airnThe shock of lifenFeeds the fightnThe fight that's in my headnHolding tight in the stillness of the nightnIn the stillness of my thoughtsnYet, I know I've only startednnBeating on a tin drum marching to a soundnWhat is it I think?nAm I beating on a tin drum marching to a causenWhen I don't know what it is I believennLonely peeping chicknCalling to his mothernRuns amucknIn a sunken black ditchnAnd Wilhelm's with the widownWhile Martha's in the meadownAnd the lamb is a laying in sicknAnd the boy in backnIs talking some slacknTo the king of auld lang synenAnd my heart goes outnBut I cannot spout what I do not know insidenHolding tight in the stillness of my mindnIn the stillness of my thoughtnYet, I know I've only started