There's an old man talking To a young boy weeping To an old man shaking his head There's a cool gentle breeze In the night full of light As the red glow wavers in the stead There's a black man crying And a white man dying And a black man's head in the air The shock of life Feeds the fight The fight that's in my head Holding tight in the stillness of the night In the stillness of my thoughts Yet, I know I've only started Beating on a tin drum marching to a sound What is it I think? Am I beating on a tin drum marching to a cause When I don't know what it is I believe Lonely peeping chick Calling to his mother Runs amuck In a sunken black ditch And Wilhelm's with the widow While Martha's in the meadow And the lamb is a laying in sick And the boy in back Is talking some slack To the king of auld lang syne And my heart goes out But I cannot spout what I do not know inside Holding to a tin drum, marching to a sound What is it that I think Am I beating on a tin drum, marching to a cause when I don't know what it is I believe I believe, I believe And I beating on a tin drum marching to a cause when I don't know what it is I believe Holdin' to a tin drum, marching to a sound What is it that I think? I?m beating on a tin drum marching to a cause when I don't know what it is I believe, I believe Beating on the drum beating on the drum beating on a cause It really is a lie Am I beating on a drum? Beating on a lie, a lie, a lie-ha-high!