Hangman

How you doing there, granddad, sitting in the broken light

With your fishing wire, waiting for a bite?

How you doing there, preacher, walking gently past?

Of course God loves you, do you need to ask?

And there's no way of knowing, no earthly way of showing

All the thoughts inside their heads as they make up their earthly beds

Swaying in the wind

If there's no hope for the hangman, there's no hope at all

We're all moving through life this way, dancing on a cannonball

If there's no hope at the gallows, or underneath the hanging tree