It's like a conversation
where no-one stops to breathe
Is it my imagination
or did God already leave the table
Such destruction
and pure white castles in the sand
No time for introduction
With all that money changing hands
And the satellite says
Take a look at all we have
But the old man says
You want my family for your liberty
I can't do that
Look into the eyes of any patient man
Whether they be amber green or blue
There's a piece of God
staring back at you
But they see our children
and the old folk fend for themselves
They see our broken women
On imaginary shelves
But the satellite says
Won't you people look at all we have
Don't you want it
Can't you see
the things that you lack
Children in his arms
he turns his back