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These are not dispassionate words of the cool The headline still rules the editor's a fool Shall we douse out the flames or will everybody fuse And leave us stranded here tomorrow I heard a calling out, a cry from the heart From the towns of cement and the beauty A whisper its turned howl, man he didn't know He was standing waiting for tomorrow Nothing's left, nothing's found, there must be some common ground I could never figure the calendars flow Nor can I work out how the wild, wild wind blows But we're ready from within and we're starting to go Away from the place of no tomorrow Nothing's left, nothing's found, there must be some common ground Nothing's left, (???) I see there must be some common ground Oh the wrecking fields are a terrible place With a sulphurous smell and a frightening pace And the Hook goes early and the critic is king It's hard to stay human and stand in the ring There's no time to be absent, a clown or a fool While Shylock is smiling we're loaded like mules If we surrender ourself to industrial rules We'll wake up in the wreckage of tomorrow Now Nothing's left, nothing's found, there must be some common ground Nothing's left, something's found, can we see some common ground Please fill in the fields below and click SUBMIT to send it to your friend.
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