Well hatred is too weak a word
For the feeling I hold in your presence
Your music, your talk and your sound
Have turned so sour and unpleasant
You're hiding in depth underground
You're a coward with no chicken feathers
Your meaning is cloaked and it's turned
Your head resounds stormy weather
Well you'd better go have you a talk with your muse
She might give you an answer, might give you a clue
She's standing outside of your kitchen door
She might not hear you, might not know you anymore
Atlantic has turned you away
Pacific received even colder
The midwest on down through the gulf
Won't sandblast the chip from your shoulder
So touch, touch, outside of the door
You hear it's so empty inside
Well pride that's welling so deep within you
Once conquered your turn to divide
Well you'd better go have you a talk with your muse
She might give you an answer, might give you a clue
She's standing outside of your kitchen door
She might not hear you, might not know you anymore