Song Length |
4:50 |
Genre |
Country - General |
Lyrics
just another loose cannon on the hill shouting out dapper little crudities nobody seemed to care and so he took control little boy blue singin' nearer my God to thee
you remember very little 'bout the days we all got paid hustlin' back from work to catch the news at home you gave up all control and just got stoned but tied to the guilt your will's your own
so gather up the glossies and the pulp sheets off the streets and put the shredder on damage control let our history be a confetti of self-defeat and send your pretty secretary home erect and electric fence around the family plot and sow your lethal aid abroad let the seeds of death fall where they may and now repair your fishing rod
don't you read the writing on the wall
it doesn't take an angel to change
the tide goes in and out rich men rise and fall
it is nature of the game
are these the games that wisemen play?
his palms are sweaty and his throat is dry
as he reads the orders of the day
tells us everyone above knew all every little move he made
he left the tracks of a wounded bird and now his nest is burning down calls the charges leveled at his uniform absurd his heart just makes a clicking sound
chorus
in the name of the right he does it all wrong he's got 'em in his sights but he doesn't hear their songs he's a creature from another time A prisoner of his own design takes aim at the shadows on the wall lets go his salvo...
don't you read the writing on the wall
it doesn't take an angel to change
the tide goes in and out rich men rise and fall
it is nature of the game
are these the games that wisemen play?