|
Your class, your caste, your country, sect, your name or your tribe |
|
There's people always dying, trying to keep 'em alive |
|
His body's decomposing in containers tonight |
|
In an abandoned building where |
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A squatter's made a mural of a |
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Mexican girl |
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With fifteen cans of spray paint and a chemical swirl |
|
She's standing in the ashes at the end of the world |
|
Four winds blowing through her hair |
|
But when great |
|
Satan's gone, the whore of |
|
BabylonShe just can't sustain the pressure where it's placed, she caves |
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The Bible's blind, the |
|
Torah's deaf, the |
|
Qu'ran's mute |
|
If you burn them all together, you get close to the truth still |
|
They are pouring over |
|
Sanskrit on the |
|
Ivy League moons |
|
While shadows lengthen in the sun |
|
Cast all the school and meditation built to soften the times |
|
And hold us at the center while the spiral unwinds |
|
It's knocking over fences, crossing property lines |
|
Four winds, cry until it comes |
|
And it's the sum of man, slouching towards |
|
BethlehemA heart just can't contain all of that empty space |
|
It breaks, it breaks, it breaks |
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Well, I went back, |
|
I rent a Cadillac, a company jet |
|
Like a newly orphaned refugee, retracing my steps |
|
All the way to |
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Cassadaga to commune with the dead |
|
They said, "You'd better look alive" |
|
And I was off to old |
|
Dakota where a genocide sleeps |
|
In the black hills, the bad lands, the calloused east |
|
I buried my ballast, |
|
I made my peace |
|
With four winds, leveling the pines |
|
But when great |
|
Satan's gone, the whore of |
|
BabylonShe just can't remain with all that outer space |
|
She breaks, she breaks, she caves, she caves |
