procol harum was big in the late 60s. the fact that 40 years later you can only identify one song by them is probably because radio sucks balls, not because they're a one hit wonder (which they aren't).
Ah, Michael

procol harum was big in the late 60s. the fact that 40 years later you can only identify one song by them is probably because radio sucks balls, not because they're a one hit wonder (which they aren't).
I know if I'd been wiser
This would never have occurred
But I wallowed in my blindness
So it's plain that I deserve
For the sin of self-indulgence
When the truth was writ quite clear
I must spend my life amongst the dead
Who spend their lives in fear
Of a death that they're not sure of
Of a life they can't control
It's all so simple really
If you just look to your soul
Some say that I'm a wise man
Some think that I'm a fool
But it doesn't matter either way:
I'll be a wise man's fool
For the lesson lies in learning
And by teaching I'll be taught
For there's nothing hidden anywhere
It's all there to be sought
And so if you learn anything
Look closely at the time
But others will remain untrue
And won't commit that crime
My Prussian-blue electric clock's
Alarm bell rings, it will not stop
And I can see no end in sight
And search in vain by candlelight
For some long road that goes nowhere
For some signpost that is not there
And even my befuddled brain
Is shining brightly, quite insane
Above all else confusion reigns
And though I ask no-one explains
My eunuch friend has been and gone
He said that I must soldier on
And though the Ferris wheel spins round
My tongue it seems has run aground
And croaks as my befuddled brain
Shines on brightly, quite insane
For you (whose eyes were opened wide whilst mine refused to see)
I'm sore in need of saving grace.
Be kind and humor me
I'm lost amidst a sea of wheat
Where people speak but seldom meet
And grief and laughter, strange but true
Although they die, they seldom cry
An ode by any other name
I know might read more sweet
Perhaps the sun will never shine
Upon my field of wheat
But still in closing, let me say
For those too sick, too sick to see
Though nothing shows, yes, someone knows
I wish that one was me