In long years of ancient time, stood alone a friend of mine.
Reflected by the ever-burning sigh of a god who happened by.
And in the dawn, there came the song of some sweet lady singing in his ear.
Your god has gone, and from now on, you'll have to learn to hate
the things you fear.
We want to know, are we inside the womb
of passion plays, and by righteousness consumed?
Or just in lush contentment of our souls?
And so began the age of man.
They left his body in the sand.
Their glasses raised to a god on high
who smiled upon them from the sky.
So take the stage. Spin down the ages. Loose the passion.
Spill the rage upon your son who holds the gun up to your head ---
the play's begun.
Then God, the director, smells a rat.
Pulls another rabbit from His hat.
Sniffs the air and He says, ``Well, that's that --- I'm going.''
The actors milling helplessly --- the script is blowing out to sea.
But what the hell, we didn't even pass an audition.
The lines you'll have to improvise. The words are written in
the eyes of politicians who despise their fathers.
And so the play necessitates that all you boys participate
in fierce competition to eliminate each other.
And groupies, on their way to war,
get to write the next film score.
But the rock and roll star knows his glory is really nothing.
Men of religion, on the make,
pledge an oath they undertake to
make you white for God's own sake, and none other.
While ladies get their bedding done
to win themselves a bouncing son ---
but bad girls do it for the fun of just being.
And me, I'm here to sing along,
and I'm not concerned with the righting wro