In the eyes of the world your touch is like gold Your reputation's so cool and cruel and controlled You count your money in your prison tower Made of concrete, gla**, and steel Feeling cozy in the hollow warmth of another business deal You've climbed your way to the top but lately it seems That there's a hole in the heart of the american dream Sittin' pretty in your trophy room with your shining souvenirs That just remind you of the wasted time and the lateness of the years Is that all, is that all there is Is that all, there must be more than this In the eyes of the world your touch is like gold Your reputation's so cool and cruel and controlled In a moment it could all be gone in the twinkling of an eye Then what's your pile of precious pride worth then If you've never wondered why Is that all, is that all there is Is that all, there must be more than this Is that all, is that all there is Is that all, there must be more than this