The headline still rules, the editors a fool
Shall we douse out the flames or will everybody fuse
And leave us stranded here tomorrow
I heard a calling out, a cry from the heart
From the towns of cement and no beauty
A whisper its turned howl, man he didnt know
He was standing waiting for tomorrow
Nothings left, nothings found, there must be some common ground
Nothings left, nothings found, there must be some common ground
I could never figure the calendars flow
Nor can I work out how the wild, wild wind blows
But were ready from within and were starting to go
Away from the place of no tomorrow
Nothings left, nothings found, there must be some common ground
Nothings left, homeward bound, I see there must be some common ground
Oh the wrecking fields are a terrible place
With a sulphurous smell and a frightening pace
And the Hook is early and the critic is king
Its hard to stay human and stand in the ring
Theres no time to be absent, a clown or a fool
While Shylock is smiling were loaded like mules
If we surrender ourself to industrial rules
Well wake up in the wreckage of tomorrow
Now
Nothings left, nothings found, there must be some common ground
Nothings left, somethings found, can we see some common ground
