This was an empty space
Ever since the king was shot dead
Everything from Ben Ali to Tivoli was burned down
Now, it's an acronym
Putrid from the stench of no smell
Tubes of glowing gas are all that's standing in for the sun
Buy them up and start again
And plaster over every tiny spell
That's standing in for them
And when we're done, we swear
That you won't even recognize this place
But you've got a temper a temper a temper, my dear.
I know if they had their way,
I'd never miss a moment plugged in.
I'd never feel a bead of perspiration form on my brow.
The mind is an empty space
Fill it up and watch it get dim
When every block is just the same,
How will I know where I am?
But why are you so sure
That when we're done,
There will not be a place for you?
A place for everyone
And when we're done, we swear,
That you won't even recognize this place.
But you've got a temper a temper a temper my dear.