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Take a little walk to the edge of town |
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and go across the tracks |
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Where the viaduct looms, |
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like a bird of doom |
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As it shifts and cracks |
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Where secrets lie in the border fires, |
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in the humming wires |
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Hey man, you know |
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you're never coming back |
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Past the square, past the bridge, |
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past the mills, past the stacks |
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On a gathering storm comes |
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a tall handsome man |
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in a dusty black coat with |
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a red right hand |
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He'll wrap you in his arms, |
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tell you that you've been a good boy |
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He'll rekindle all the dreams |
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it took you a lifetime to destroy |
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He'll reach deep into the hole, |
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heal your shrinking soul, |
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but there won't be a single thing |
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that you can do |
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He's a god, he's a man, |
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he's a ghost, he's a guru |
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They're whispering his name |
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through this disappearing land |
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But hidden in his coat |
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is a red right hand |
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You don't have no money? |
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He'll get you some |
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You don't have no car? |
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He'll get you one |
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You don't have no self-respect, |
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you feel like an insect |
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Well don't you worry buddy, |
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'cause here he comes |
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Through the ghettos and the barrio |
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and the bowery and the slum |
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A shadow is cast wherever he stands |
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Stacks of green paper in his |
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red right hand |
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You'll see him in your nightmares, |
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you'll see him in your dreams |
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He'll appear out of nowhere but |
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he ain't what he seems |
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You'll see him in your head, |
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on the TV screen |
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And hey buddy, I'm warning |
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you to turn it off |
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He's a ghost, he's a god, |
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he's a man, he's a guru |
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You're one microscopic cog |
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in his catastrophic plan |
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Designed and directed by |
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his red right hand |
