[Solo:]He wraps a smile round his tired face*to hide the marks of the walk of life through dire straits No brothers in arms , the sultan of mood swing Moving in tune with the melodies that truth singsHe knows the music will stopand he's okay with that, he can face the factsHe just wants it to mean something to these people when he fades to blackAnd he's not sure, fighting for a lost cause and effectHe tries to find clarity behind locked doors in his headAnd if you saw him, you wouldn't know itHell, his friends don'tHe's just another lost soul who blocks the world out with his headphonesWords signify nothing, he doesn't feel your complementsDoesn't believe the things you say when you try to build his confidenceThere is no success, only an inability to realise a goalThis blackjack of all trades playing with the rest, he might just foldHe can see what his opponents hold, read their tactics, call their bluffsBut he can't play his own hand right, it's not enoughIt's the way he plays, convinced he's lost from the first turnHe reads the other players fine from the skirts to the hurt wordsThe smirks to the T-shirts, the nervous to the certainEvery apple has it's earthwormsSorry, he gets carried away when he's writing in the third person