The word of our Lord scratched in sand
By the spittle drenched flannel of man
We struggle to stand higher
But our feet are attached to the land
Our souls are just arches in bones
We've been crushed by sticks
Buried 'neath stones
We struggle to stand higher
But our feet are attached to the land
This moment is over
The idea that you
Were the same when it started as
When it is through
Is the reason that old friends have
Problems with new cars
And the new clothes that you
Bought for them to see you in