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When we were young we pledged allegiance |
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Every morning of our lives |
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The classroom rang with children's voices |
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Under teacher's watchful eye |
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We learned about the world around us |
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At our desks and at dinnertime |
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Reminded of the starving children |
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We cleaned our plates with guilty minds |
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And the stones in the road shone like diamonds in the dust |
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And then a voice called to us to make our way back home |
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When I was ten |
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My father held me on his shoulders above the crowd |
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To see a train draped in mourning |
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Pass slowly through our town |
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His widow kneeled with all their children |
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At the sacred burial ground |
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And the TV glowed that long hot summer |
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With all the cities burning down |
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And the stones in the road |
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Flew out beneath our bicycle tires |
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Worlds removed from all those fires |
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As we raced each other home |
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And now we drink our coffee on the run |
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We climb that ladder rung by rung |
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We are the daughters and the sons |
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And here's the line that's missing |
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The starving children have been replaced |
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By souls out on the street |
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We give a dollar when we pass |
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And hope our eyes don't meet |
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We pencil in we cancel out we crave the corner suite |
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We kiss your ass we make you hold we doctor the receipt |
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And the stones in the road fly out from beneath our wheels |
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Another day another deal before we get back home |
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And the stones in the road leave a mark from whence they came |
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A thousand points of light or shame baby I don't know |
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La la la la la la |
