These are not dispassionate words of the cool The headline still rules the editor's a fool Shall we douse out the flames or will everybody fuse And leave us stranded here tomorrow
I heard a calling out, a cry from the heart From the towns of cement and no beauty A whisper it's turned howl, man, he didn't know He was standing waiting for tomorrow
Nothing's left, nothing's found There must be some common ground Nothing's left, nothing's found There must be some common ground
I could never figure the calendars flow Nor can I work out how the wild, wild wind blows But I'm ready from within and we're starting to go Away from the place of no tomorrow
Nothing's left, nothing's found There must be some common ground Nothing's left, hold it [Incomprehensible] I see, there must be some common ground
Oh, the wrecking fields are a terrible place With a sulphurous smell and a frightening pace And the hook goes in early and the critic is king It's hard to stay human and stand in the ring
There's no time to be absent, a clown or a fool While Shylock is smiling we're loaded like mules If we surrender ourself to industrial rules We'll wake up in the wreckage of tomorrow, now
Nothing's left, nothing's found There must be some common ground Nothing's left, something's found Can we see some common ground