Their custom concern for the people

Build up the 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 then walk

Gotta go to work, gotta go to work, gotta get a job

Goes through the parking lot fields

Doesn't see no signs that they will yield

And then thought, this'll never end

This'll never end, this'll never stop

Message read on the bathroom wall

Says, "I don't feel at all like I fall."

And we're losing all touch, losing all touch

Building a desert