Here we are with the world at our feet now,
thinking that we know it so well.
Here we are with a smile for the preacher
and buck for the beggar
ringing on the mission bell.
Here we are with the world in between us
and our eyes screwed up tight.
Here we are, looking, mute, at one another.
We’re wondering if we can make it right.
Oh lord, we’ll never get it right.
It’s the power of the consequence,
the iron chains of circumstance,
the quiet call of independence—
I don’t hear a thing.
So when you get right down to the meaning,
there’s no meaning there at all.
And when you lie awake in the candlelight
I know you hear me calling.
So you hope for the worst for your enemies,
and you hope for the best for your friends.
And then you learn one day that it’s hopeless,
and that’s where the story ends.
You know one day the story ends.
©1999 Schroedinger’s Catbox;
music co-written by Leland James “Pugsley” Pugsley, III