Fickle Sun (i)

And on the day the work is done We toil away in fickle sun And on the day the wire is spun And so the dismal work is done All over here it's darkened still A cumulus of pride and will Dissolved in all the oil and steam The will of all our hopeless schemes The line is long, the line is great And humans turning back to clay Right there beneath the fickle sun The empty eyes, the end begun Oh, the crew is done Now the boats are all astray There's no one rowing anyway There's no one rowing anymore The end has come, the men ashore All the boys are going down Falling over, one night gone All the boys are turned around Long for soldiers everyone All the boys are falling down Fallen to ashes in the ground When I was a young soldier I turned my eyes directly to the sun To burn off all that I had seen (?) To wipe away what I had to be (?) To be recast as something new (?) When I was a young soldier (The brittle foil, the breaks of light) When I was a young soldier (Click click click click) When I was a young soldier (Click click click click) (And on the day the work is done) (And on the day the chick had sung) When I was a young soldier (And on the day the wind had sung) When I was a young soldier (And on the day the work is done) When I was a young soldier (And on the day the chick had sung) When I was a young soldier (And on the day the wind had sung) When I was a young soldier (And on the day the work is done) When I was a young soldier (And on the day the chick had sung) When I was a young soldier (And on the day the wind had sung) (When I was a young soldier) When I was a young soldier (When I was a young soldier) (The brittle foil, the breaks of light) [?] (The brittle foil, the breaks of light)