we miss the word that no one wants to hear
so much is urgent at the changing hour
just before dawn and our faces are dour
so many needs and so much we hold dear
our hearts must quail and we just have to cower
we miss the word that no one wants to hear
no one can see behind the sharp veneer
to all the swords that still sustain our power
instead they praise the fruit within the flower
we miss the word than no one wants to hear
there is no need to fear the open eye
it will not see what lies within each heart
but only what is made by normal art
this is the standard ordinary lie
that we accept by way of getting by
since each of us has got to play our part
to do our duty seem to give a fart
and then give everyone a plain goodbye
there are no honest signs of desperation
we simply wait for all good things to fade
while in the background there's a simple tone
appropriate to those in our dull station
with little left to show and less to trade
and all our blankness showing in the bone
