Their custom concern for the people
Build up monuments and steeples
To wear out our eyes

I get up just about noon
My head sends a message for me to reach for my shoes
And then walk
Gotta go to work, gotta go to work, gotta have a job

Goes through the parking lot fields
Didn't see no signs that they would yield
And then thought
This'll never end, this'll never ever, ever stop

Message read on the bathroom wall said
I don't feel at all like I fall
And we're losing all touch, losing all touch
Building a desert

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