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I shuffle each day past the greensward peasantsMolding somebody's earthThe helmsman directs from the bed of the crateAnd fingers his pockets for all that they're worthBootstraps were made to be brokenBy a wealth of invisible handsDignity force-fed, then stolenAnd packaged by the choicest of brandsThey surface as soon as the workers are goneAnd kiss on the edge of their fertilized lawnAnd he says, ?Dear, I love you?And she says, ?God, I love you?They watch the sun set on the boys in the street playing God with a magnifying lensWith a hand on her stomach, she whispers to him, ?I hope we have children like them? Aus Songtexte Mania