| Libert belle is ringing out
|
| Across the sea
|
| And everyone sings along
|
| Though she’s singing way out of key
|
| From the shores of Gallilie
|
| To the runways of Anglesea
|
| You know we’re digging to hell
|
| Right past your own well
|
| As the magpies fly from Tallahasee
|
| To the sky
|
| Memory lane forgot her way
|
| After all this time
|
| And she never learned her mistakes
|
| And all the crime
|
| That caused the gulf of misery
|
| That separated you from me
|
| You know we’re digging to hell
|
| Drowning in our oil wells
|
| As the seagulls from Abu Dhabi
|
| To the sky
|
| The birds still sing their melodies
|
| Their songs of love and food and trees
|
| Oh my how they fly
|
| So little do they know yet their days are numbered so
|
| Alarms are ringing in the trees
|
| You know you’ve been to hell
|
| Drowning in your oil wells
|
| As the ashes fly from New York City
|
| Past the grimy clouds above New Jersey
|
| Past the kids who like to smoke like chimneys
|
| To the sky |