| A stand, a wall, a fiat in us all | |
| Something that will take away | |
| This nonsense soon, one of these days | |
| The demand, the call, it will come soon I can hear us all | |
| Talking one day about the ones that we love instead of | |
| Hanging around waiting for signs from above | |
| Hey, hey I too want change, I'm not talking about faith, I will pay | |
| For evidence of the numbness and pain | |
| Of anyone with guns, the money or the planes | |
| I hear you saying I am just one kid, that we can't do what one thousand once did | |
| But let me leave you with this simple idea | |
| and maybe one of you might run with it for real | |
| On that day will we be original spies? | |
| Through dusty Lucite will the sun still rise? | |
| Will strange new days, striated with strain contain your relocated slang and those incredible eyes? | |
| Truant treasures come from zealots sounding, Jensens pounding | |
| By way of last year's sonic stencils | |
| We are working it out, if only with pencils, but | |
| Underneath the same, same skies as those ones pushing the same, same lies, so | |
| Grab a pen, turn of the CNN | |
| And scratch me out some plans to get together again | |
| In that way will we be original spies? | |
| With trusty foresight will the sun still rise? | |
| Will strained new days, saturated with strange contain your relocated slang and those incredible eyes? | |
| Hey, hey I too want change, I'm not talking about faith, I will pay | |
| For evidence of the numbness and pain | |
| Of anyone with guns, the money or the planes | |
| I hear you saying I am just one kid, that we can't do what one thousand once did | |
| But let me leave you with this simple idea | |
| and maybe one of you might run with it for real | |
| On that day will we be original spies? | |
| Through dusty Lucite will the sun still rise? | |
| Will strange new days, striated with strain contain your relocated slang and those incredible eyes? |
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