I don't want to write all these things in the sand
I don't want to listen and not understand
I don't want to tramp up the footpath of stars
Don't want to be an advocate
Don't want to be a monument
There is nothing that grows in your arctic world
I don't want to breathe that Smithsonian air
I don't want to listen when they toll the bell
'Cos I can't take another industrial feast
On the ground, on my back, out there
I want to meet the president
Of a country without sense
There is nothing that grows in his arctic world
There is nothing that grows in your arctic world
There is nothing that grows in this arctic world
