Babe they say that this world is better than the last I wouldn't know - I have no way of living in the past Where once there was a garden the streets have overflowed From the Golden Gates to the East Block states You can hear creation groan If there is a shining beacon out across the amber waves It lies hidden on the teeming shores beneath the burned-out Chevrolets And the eyes that scattered high-rise hope across the fruited plains See TV's glowing in the projects through the greasy windowpanes Baby it's a long way down