One is pursuant of other men's themes One is the slaver of scenes One is the ruin Of other men's dreams So grab your heads, axe has appeal One is the maker of Ulcers of life You don't always you get what you need I hear a whistle It comes from the sky So run and hide your family We've intercepted your message to god There is no help on the wing Your request sticks to the ceiling, a dream And now it's dust on the floor So all of you young ones You sniff the debris And catalog disaster and grief Put it all in athenaeum of woe Please don't follow but lead