Back before the streets had names, You used to get lost out in the rain; Oh, the cul-de-sac was always the same. And each time you would swear in vain That you would never find your way back there again; Oh, look how far you came. It's rainin' cats and dogs; You've made another wrong turn again. If you can't prepare for the journey, Prepare for the end! God ain't no naive rube, He sees everything you do; He's like Santy Claus, but He pays you for your sins! All that remains are shadows and rain, And no one will blame you for saving yourself. Oh, but the flames . . . Yes . . . the flames of hell! You can leave all that shines To go diggin' in those dark dirty mines, But what you trade will be worth more than gold. Touch all the life you can; Clutch it in your clammy little hands. But in the end, my friends, you will grow old. All the love you were chasing Now turns like a pack of dogs. And all the power you were waiting for Is nothing but your breath in the fog.