These 4 walls mean everything to me
Touching the sky is a breeze
I’m held in your arms, I am free
And the best of it all is a dream
Men have confessed this disease
Christmas this year will be green
Nothing is just what it seems
My marie, my marie, my marie
I’ve counted the tears and the sighs
How could it be other wise?
We smile, but o great lord our cries
Unto thee the soul will arise
Beneath our sore feet, the long mile
And the dirt and the clay it is vile
We wear a mask of grins and lies
And pay a debt of human guile
The poor and the weak take their chance
For a glass and a song and a dance
Stumble and fall from the blow
While the vultures feast on the marrow
I have not got long to live dear
But who now will argue on appearance
For now I am sturdy and able
The pick of the gentelmans stable
