Nutmeg & Cinnamon
You build up towers just to say you can
Yet you leave a wet edge way up high
And no bricks to seal it up, the wind will make them drop
To the streets that your grandfather swept
You cast parades in your honor
Yet you toll the church bells for all your grief
When there's no one to attend because you've burned out all your friends
Who will be the ones to watch your keep?
You save up dollars that you'll never spend
Just to prove your worth while we're starving to death
Cut 'em up and throw 'em out with all those holy books you doubt
The ones that mother read while she wept
Her tears would form rivers with rapids so fast
Her doubts undoubtedly sweep you away
How far can you go before you fall off all the world
And the linings of your pocket turn away
Where, where have the good ones gone?
Tell me this was all for naught
I will not believe
That such a thing could be