Someone picked the pockets of my dream

Behind a smoke screen sophistication gains the upper hand

Invents cabbage-in-the-can and many more essential things for man

I'd like to turn the lights off now or end it somehow

'Cause someone stole the answer that I sought

And no replacement can be bought for love, nor money or a kindly thought

A kindly thought

I'll give it one more year of this game

Two more years and you'll feel the same

There's nothing I'll miss but the birds, the trees, the rain

They're planning peace and love again

Failure didn't stop them, they're 'round the table dishing out the dirt

So sincere it almost hurts

He's pushing eighty but he's so alert, he's so alert

Someone's getting shot for all their sins, or something they believed in

Their blood is spent like money on machines

Spills across your TV screens

So turn the volume up, you'll hear him scream, you'll hear him scream