Back when you were immature
Fast asleep in class you were
Dreaming of your grandfather
Selling sod from cemetery plots
Now he had the right stuff
To pass the time in school is hard enough

After class said "what a jerk"
To criticize a student's work
Especially in front of everyone
It was only tongue in cheek
Just another chip
On the shoulder of
A brooding little boy
Who'll one day bring the nations to their knees

Wasted days
Slotted Spoon
Paper moon

On a summer's day he said
There's no mystery no more
If it comes to pass
Each day could be our last
And who can count their blessings
When their days are numbered too?
All our days are numbered
You struck a match
Started to cry
Cry
Cry
Cry

Now you're on the winning team
Brand new IBM machine
Sure, it isn't what it seems
But it'll do for a utopia
Money, drugs, and sex
In the military industrial complex

Our fates are written in the stars
Competition, waging wars
Just a couple micrograms
Of a new enriched plutonium
And oh, I don't know when
Or how it will begin
Or how to trust a whim
Or notion you're no longer making sense

Reading this
Cast a stone
Leave alone

On a gloomy day he said "there's no dignity no more"
No one wants to hear a sixty-five year engineer
So you packed your bags and left
Clear across the continent
Now your pensions's coming
You closed the blinds
Started to cry
Cry
Cry
Cry

Weapons grade
One act play
Drum and bass
Leave a trace