History's a vinyl record stuck in a groove A hundred warring sects claiming to have the truth Blessed robots with so much to prove You could say so much to lose The scorching air The slumbering ma** Of forgotten things Preening peaco*ks ignite the fuse Trumpets and promises a turn of the screw To have a human face we'll have to start all over again Back to the drawing board all the boys and men When you lose your kite in the wind and fall on the trees You're s**ed in bulletin blown out on T.V. The glory of the past is really only a tomb The thing from the crypt long ago nurtured you