Lyrics:

Cyrus his panoptic eye
His suspect light and enterprise--
Defines a moral view
In these galleries of Stone
The sad-sack women roam
And one or two he will pursue.
In these cataracts of time
The sheer exhaustion of these crimes
Is funny 'cause it's true.
His full-spectrum appetites will not infringe
Their rights and who cares, frankly, if they do?
History in the making
Somewhat bruised; completely aching
As it all goes down:
Another day above the ground

By the park, the lonely man
We set the scene: the sun, the sand
So very far away
Beneath the pylons in the rain
The ragged hordes have come again
A thousand in the bay
The lovesick swain who seized the day
His speech that took your breath away:
It was, I think, sincere.
The fissure where the bone comes through
The reptile house of me and you
The truth of things is clear:
There will be no blessing
And it's all just window dressing
You can ask around
Another day above the ground

Conjour up the clowns and me
All crying in the chromakey
In fields of fire and air
All are hostages to time:
The knuckleheads,
The New Sublime
Is neither here nor there
The sins they said would find you out
The wind that blows the clouds about
Are seldom far away
Those lucid dreams
That hang around
They're silent in the morning now
And quieter in the day
Burning all the diaries
I'm just helping with enquiries
Here at Lost and Found
Another day above the ground