These days it's not about who we are,
It's about who you were back that far,
So why is it so hard to believe that we're falling asleep at the wheel,
The farmer's digging rabbits graves and we're running away,
The rabbits are running on hopes that they'll feel,
Something other than instinct and lust and dismay
The boy said to his dad,
"Why is your head in the sand?"
He never came home that day,
Reporters found him on a weather vain,
The girl said to her mom,
"Where have allthe boys gone?"
Mom replied "They've gone out to play",
They played in the sky that day
