The custom concern for the people

Build up monuments and steeples to wear

Out our eyes

I get up just about noon

My head sends a message for me to reach for my shoes and then walk

Gotta go to work, gotta go to work, gotta have a job

Goes through the parking lot fields

Didn't see no signs that they would yield and then thought

This'll never end, this'll never end, this'll never stop (this'll never end, this'll never end, this'll never end)

Message read on the bathroom wall

Said, "I don't feel at all like I fall"

And we're losing all touch, losing all touch, building a desert