One is pursuant of other men's themes
One is the slaver of scenes
One is the ruin
Of other men's dreams
So grab your heads, axe has appeal
One is the maker of
Ulcers of life
You don't always you get what you need
I hear a whistle
It comes from the sky
So run and hide your family

We've intercepted your message to god
There is no help on the wing
Your request sticks to the ceiling, a dream
And now it's dust on the floor
So all of you young ones
You sniff the debris
And catalog disaster and grief
Put it all in athenaeum of woe
Please don't follow but lead

Copyright: DOMINO PUBLISHING COMPANY
Writer(s): John Peter Dwyer