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They were digging a new foundation in Manhattan

And they discovered a slave cemetery there

May their souls rest easy now that lynching is frowned upon

And we`ve moved on to the electric chair

And I wonder who`s gonna be president

Tweedle Dumb or Tweedle Dumber?

And who`s gonna have the big

Blockbuster box office

This summer

How `bout we put up a wall

Between the houses and the highway

And then you can go your way

And I can go my way

Except all the radios agree with all the TV`s

And all the magazines agree with all the radios

And I keep hearing that same damn song

Everywhere I go

Maybe I should put a bucket over my head

And a marshmallow in each ear

And stumble around for another dumb numb week

For another hum drum hit song to appear

People used to make records

As in a record of an event

The event of people

Playing music in a room

Now everything is cross-marketing

It`s about sunglasses and shoes

Or guns or drugs

You choose

We got it rehashed

We got it half-assed

We`re digging up all the graves

And we`re spitting on the past

And we can choose between the colors

Of the lipstick on the whores

Cuz we know the difference

Between the font of twenty percent more

And the font of teriyaki

You tell me

How does that make you feel?

You tell me what`s real

They say that alcoholics are always alcoholics

Even when they`re dry as my lips for years

Even when they`re stranded on a small desert island

With no place in two thousand miles to buy beer

And I wonder is he different

Is he different

Has he changed

What he`s about

Or is he just a liar

With nothing to lie about

Am I headed for the same brick wall

Is there anything I can do

About anything at all

Except go back to that corner in Manhattan

And dig deeper

Dig deeper this time

Down beneath the impossible pain of our history

Beneath unknown bones

Beneath the bedrock of the mystery

Beneath the sewage system and the path train

Beneath the cobblestones and the water main

Beneath the traffic of friendships and street deals

Beneath the screeching of kamikaze cab wheels

Beneath everything I can think of to think about

Beneath it all

Beneath all get out

Beneath the good and the kind and the stupid and the cruel

Ther`es a fire that`s just waiting for fuel

They were digging a new foundation in Manhattan

And they discovered a slave cemetery there

May their souls rest easy now that lynching is frowned upon

And we`ve moved on to the electric chair

And I wonder who`s gonna be president

Tweedle Dumb or Tweedle Dumber?

And who`s gonna have the big

Blockbuster box office

This summer

How `bout we put up a wall

Between the houses and the highway

And then you can go your way

And I can go my way

Except all the radios agree with all the TV`s

And all the magazines agree with all the radios

And I keep hearing that same damn song

Everywhere I go

Maybe I should put a bucket over my head

And a marshmallow in each ear

And stumble around for another dumb numb week

For another hum drum hit song to appear

People used to make records

As in a record of an event

The event of people

Playing music in a room

Now everything is cross-marketing

It`s about sunglasses and shoes

Or guns or drugs

You choose

We got it rehashed

We got it half-assed

We`re digging up all the graves

And we`re spitting on the past

And we can choose between the colors

Of the lipstick on the whores

Cuz we know the difference

Between the font of twenty percent more

And the font of teriyaki

You tell me

How does that make you feel?

You tell me what`s real

They say that alcoholics are always alcoholics

Even when they`re dry as my lips for years

Even when they`re stranded on a small desert island

With no place in two thousand miles to buy beer

And I wonder is he different

Is he different

Has he changed

What he`s about

Or is he just a liar

With nothing to lie about

Am I headed for the same brick wall

Is there anything I can do

About anything at all

Except go back to that corner in Manhattan

And dig deeper

Dig deeper this time

Down beneath the impossible pain of our history

Beneath unknown bones

Beneath the bedrock of the mystery

Beneath the sewage system and the path train

Beneath the cobblestones and the water main

Beneath the traffic of friendships and street deals

Beneath the screeching of kamikaze cab wheels

Beneath everything I can think of to think about

Beneath it all

Beneath all get out

Beneath the good and the kind and the stupid and the cruel

Ther`es a fire that`s just waiting for fuel

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