He's the son of a government man I was born with blood on my hands And have all the signs of a bleeding heart
Living high on a giant hog Keep your head in a hollow log As the ruling fog are about to creep
How'd we get so far from the sun? Lost, lost in an oscillating phase Where a tiny few catch all of the rays
Out beyond the western squalls They work for nothing at all They don't know the mall or the layaway plan
Dig yourself a beautiful grave Everything you could want Maybe those invisible slaves Are too far away for a ghost to haunt
Letting go of a claim so large Oh, all of our working days are done But a tiny few are having all of the fun
Get used to the dust in your lungs
From this peak to solid ground Without having our gold teeth
Make me a drink strong enough To wash away this dishwater world they said was lemonade Walk with me after the show Maybe we can find a way through the minefield in the snow
Letting go of a claim so large Oh, all of our working days are done But a tiny few are having all of the fun
Apologies to the sick and the young Get used to the dust in your lungs