Well the air was so light it fell like a feather

Fell down upon the land where the people walked

Well I ran and I ran from one house to another

I sweated out the fear that the boss-god taught



I saw a rusty old woman giving birth in the gutter

I went down upon my knees when the little tacker talked



And the way to go out was in a bottle of fear

In a body of anger and a gut full of beer



And Mt Nameless was listening, listening, listening, listening

Mt Nameless was listening



Well her hair was so light it fell like a feather

Fell down upon the line in the people's court

And she walked though the door with her hands tied together

Spitting on the faces that the boss-god bought



And that rusty old woman's giving birth in the gutter

I went down upon my knees when the little tacker talked



And Mt Nameless was listening, listening, listening, listening

Mt Nameless was listening



And the way to go out

The way to go out, the way to go out

The way to go out was clear