First they took away the all money
poured it into the government trough
and they fed the war in Afganistan
but still that wasn’t enough
so they crucified the artists
and they stood around and laughed
and they fed their blood to the Taliban
to fatten up the golden calf
Let them work for a living
they yelled as they played itunes
and the sand crept into the alphabet
and they howled at the rising moon
Next they canceled the arts in all the schools
and art disappeared from the malls
no theatre, sculpture, films, no books
and nothing on the boardroom walls
They imported a bit from China
like they brought in everything else
and the only dance was done without pants
in bars on the edge of Hell
Let them work for a living
they yelled as they played itunes
and the sand crept into the alphabet
as they howled at the rising moon
The rehearsal halls were empty
the theatres silent too
no dancers sweated all day for a chance
to sweat all evening too
The blues musicians were sent to camps
and so were the writers and their pencils
soon the only words were spoken by birds
or sprayed on walls through stencils
Let them work for a living
they yelled as they played itunes
and the sand crept into the alphabet
and they howled at the rising moon
Then the kids rebelled ’cause the schools were Hell
without some art and music
but some expert said they should eat brown bread
and adamantly refused it
and day by day the world grew gray
and the streets grew still too soon
and the sand crept into the alphabet
as they howled at the rising moon
So now we work for a living
and we’re grimmer and deader and soon
all that sand will swallow the alphabet
as we howl at the rising moon
and the sand will swallow the alphabet
as we howl at the rising moon
