with her pitcher full of smoke
she'll put us all to sleep
i hope it's dreamless and it's deep
and all that this scarcity promotes
is desperate men and tyrants
it's clear in the animals eyes
and now we just try to survive
the surgeon and farmer meet
and each greets the other with a bow
they're kindred instruments
in the shadow of the mountain
we work when work abounds
and we wear out all our prayers
it's clear in the animals eyes
and now we just try to survive