| We will have to cross the ocean
|
| It’s just a price we have to pay
|
| Standard trustees know what’s good for you and me
|
| There is gold beneath the ashes
|
| No matter what Ida says
|
| There is a roaring sleep, a pulse we have to find
|
| And I dream of Zoroaster
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| Sailing to the Caspian sea
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| With its shiny hull in the fog and morning light
|
| We can build temples for our fires
|
| And set the world ablaze
|
| Why not? |
| After all it’s the way we chose — the beginning and the end
|
| Send it all back to the Rockefeller trust
|
| We will have to slay a dragon
|
| Yes to open up its veins
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| Bleed it dry and leave it by deserted roads
|
| We will have to dry the ocean
|
| Because the blood runs thick beneath
|
| Take to arms, defend their notions
|
| When the blood runs thick and deep
|
| And we have mouths to feed and Utopia to reach
|
| We can build temples for our fires
|
| And set the world ablaze
|
| Why not? |
| After all it’s the way we chose — the beginning and the end
|
| It’s all we were ever made of — the beginning and the end
|
| Send it all back to the Rockefeller trust |