Babe they say that this world is better than the last
I wouldn't know - I have no way of living in the past
Where once there was a garden the streets have overflowed
From the Golden Gates to the East Block states
You can hear creation groan
If there is a shining beacon out across the amber waves
It lies hidden on the teeming shores beneath the burned-out Chevrolets
And the eyes that scattered high-rise hope across the fruited plains
See TV's glowing in the projects through the greasy windowpanes
Baby it's a long way down