Where the rich become the beggars
and the wise become the fools
some jaded heart may turn the page
and start to break the rules
way beyond the distance
the knaggy oaks of truth
wake thoughts of resistance
and send you on the loose
in the deep of the night
with your face on the ground
you'll learn to spit at the devil
not to get pushed around
in the deep of the night
when you gaze at the stars
when the fogs cry "freedom"
you'd better count your scars
maybe I'm sinner
and maybe I ain't no saint
but I know the ancient dreams
of the bounded and the chained
slavery or justice
holy preacher's fail
but preservatived lust
is getting outa jail now
in the deep of the night
with your face on the ground
you'll learn to spit at the devil
not to get pushed around