7 Weeks

So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell
Blue skies from pain
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?

And did they get you trade your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees? Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change? And did you exchange
A walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?

How I wish, how I wish you were here
We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl
Year after year
Running over the same old ground. What have we found?
The same old fears
Wish you were here

— Pink Floyd