Day by day
Whistle while you work
Our backs are breaking
Up from hollow earth
From end to end
The noise begins
In the human battle stations
And the big one's coming in

Work, work, work, work
Work till holes are filled
Work, work, work, work
Bags of bone and skin
Lovers hold hands
Tossing their heads
Tangled in hair
Tied to earth
With skin and glue

But their skin is the same as yours
Coming in for the world to see
They can sit at the table, too
The same blood as you and me

Speak very softly
Hold my hand
Someone is sleeping in my bed
Priests pass by
Worms crawl in
One dreams to be
One dream for all
His skin is the same as yours
Is he not made the same as you?
And some have fallen down
And blood spilled on the ground

Work, work,work
Till his life is done
The old man is at our door
And he's knocking...knocking
As his neighbors weep
Each day repeats
Are we nothing in your eyes?
Someone answer, someone answer
This rusted garden gate
Can barely even stand
Their work is over now
And rest will be at hand

Is their skin not the same as yours?
Can they sit at the table to drink
Cool water
Cool water
And his lungs are filled with rain...
And the water's rushing in...

Copyright: Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): CHRIS FRANTZ, DAVID BYRNE, JERRY HARRISON, TINA WEYMOUTH