Children of the Pyramid Builders Songtext
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You better start with that first breath;
don't wait for the shot, 'cause odds are
you're already behind.
So help me heave another brick on my back;
we've got monoliths to leave,
and names to etch in stone.
It makes you wonder though, what good it all is,
when I'll be sleeping underneath it all when it's completed.
don't wait for the shot, 'cause odds are
you're already behind.
So help me heave another brick on my back;
we've got monoliths to leave,
and names to etch in stone.
It makes you wonder though, what good it all is,
when I'll be sleeping underneath it all when it's completed.
Hold on,
you mallard down,
you fickle runner,
you act as though you have fire at your heals.
Our liturgical words half heard and wholly misunderstood
were burned wood and dried vines of a ledger
and we were young, oh much too young
to speak on such things.
But up and up, oh I push, though I traded my
chains for a rock,
a rock for a skill,
a skill for a look and a thought,
and silver and gold in the form of applause.
So call out, for you alone know my name,
not that ugly thing I wear, nor the tags I boast.
Oh call out, for it does resound on all the cheaply used
upon these harlot ears.
Please call out, make brides of every unclean, rusty little rings, with carnations in our hair.
So call out, oh what you've made in secret:
A dress of every pearl, that bridges every distance.
you mallard down,
you fickle runner,
you act as though you have fire at your heals.
Our liturgical words half heard and wholly misunderstood
were burned wood and dried vines of a ledger
and we were young, oh much too young
to speak on such things.
But up and up, oh I push, though I traded my
chains for a rock,
a rock for a skill,
a skill for a look and a thought,
and silver and gold in the form of applause.
So call out, for you alone know my name,
not that ugly thing I wear, nor the tags I boast.
Oh call out, for it does resound on all the cheaply used
upon these harlot ears.
Please call out, make brides of every unclean, rusty little rings, with carnations in our hair.
So call out, oh what you've made in secret:
A dress of every pearl, that bridges every distance.
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