Here comes the tired statesman
Heavy-lidded, bearded, nowhere left to land
He makes the jigsaw fit
With a hammer in his hand
It's just a drop in the ocean
A woman bows to Mecca and she struggles to her feet
It's better since the president took shooting off the street
She pictures all the poverty, the cursed Holy War
So many genuine things surround you
Wild weather man well it still confounds you
Cast away the greed and death machine and bytes
And abacus and lights and hold onto your dreams tonight