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Lyrics

The light overhead's saying die
staring down at me with His filament-eyes
Oh, I am not alright

And now the television screams
wars at me, Lord, I don't know what it means
Oh, would you please come clean

And It knows you
Don't know what you do
You're running down the street
just looking for what they're calling new
But I won't plead
I'll let you feel your need
Idle hands lay waste to plans
and rambling feet will tread the seed

I hear the telephones' ring
I fear the voice that the receiver brings
But the tone of death cannot sting

The sun's going down in the west
The earth hums the tune but the moon knows it best
When will it come to rest?

And she knows you
Don't know what you do
You're running down the street
just looking for what they're calling new
But she don't plead
She'll just let you feel your need
Idle hands lay waste to plans
and rambling feet will tread the seed