Lyrics:

Here comes the beekeeper
With a pitcher full of smoke
She'll put us all to sleep
I hope it's dreamless and it's deep
Sweet Prometheus come home,
They took away our fire
And all that scarcety promotes
Is desperate men at times

What fine design, what hands, what (lies?)
The envy of eden, our tools and our reason
It's clear in the animals' eyes
We stand up right, build fires at night
Made on 6th day to rest on the 7th
For now we just try to survive

The surgeon?
And each greets the other with a bow
They're kindred instruments you know
The scalpel and the plow
And in the shadow of the mountain
We work when work abound
And we wear out all our prayers
When the work runs out

What fine design, what hands, what (lies?)
The envy of eden, our tools and our reason
It's clear in the animals' eyes
We stand up right, build fires at night
Made on 6th day to rest on the 7th
For now we just try to survive.