When the moon is only a shadow When the world is wiping her eyes The grim trucker darkens the meadow To the market he never drives
All the pigs go down the hill Past the police station, across the tracks They turn right at the next light
See the sleepy-eyed little children As we bus 'em off to school To a greasy grimy ol' building
All the pigs go down the hill Past the police station, across the tracks They turn right at the next light
Fill our face with eggs and bacon While this question weighs on our minds Will we wake to wings up in heaven Or to hooves and snout in our next life?
Some say if we get it right in this life