You picked up a cross, said "How much does this weigh?"
And I watched you carry it every single day
And when I ask you, you say "Oh it's OK"
Oh it's OK, help is on its way
Oh yeah one day help is on its way
Well I've seen it deepen, this trouble in your face
Got your mother and the whole world on your case
And we're all stranded in this market-place
Well I've heard your story time and time again
Even think I get it every now and then
"The sky is falling", screams the crazy hen
Help us if you can
Help to save a sister and an oh-so-desperate man
Help us if you will
Help to make our fingertips grip the window-sill
But oh it's OK, help is on its way
Help is on its way, help is on its way
They say the time will come
We'll all be rich when they have won
That's what they say
This is the nearest I’ve written to psychotic lyric. The years from 1989 to 1996 were personally so demanding for me that they nearly drove me crazy – sometimes it gets so bad you can only laugh in this weird, detached kind of way – “help is on its way”? Oh, yeah!!