These are not dispassionate words of the cool

The headline still rules the editor's a fool

Shall we douse out the flames or will everybody fuse

And leave us stranding here tomorrow

I heard a calling out. a cry from the heart

From the towns of cement and no beauty

A whisper it turned howl. man he didn't know

He was standing waiting for tomorrow

Nothing's left nothing's found there must be some common ground

Nothing's left nothing's found there must be some common ground

I could never figure the calendars flow

Nor can i work out how the wild wind blows

But we're ready from within and we're starting to go

Away from the place of no tomorrow

Nothing's left nothing's found there must be some common ground

Nothing's left nothing's found 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 goes in early and the critic is king

And it's hard to stay human and stand in the ring

There's no time to be absent, a clown or a fool

While shylock is smiling we're loaded like mules

If we surrender ourselves to industrial rules

We'll wake up in the wreckage of tomorrow now

Nothing's left nothing's found there must be some common ground nothing's left

Something's found can we see some common ground