I don´t want to grow anything in my heart
I don´t want to write all these things in the sand
I don´t wish to listen and not understand
I don´t want to tramp up the footpath of stars
Don´t want to be an advocate
Don´t want to be a monument

There is nothing that grows in your arctic world
I don´t want to breathe that Smithsonian air
I don´t want to listen when they toll the bell
´Cos I can´t take another industrial feast
On the ground, on my back, out there
I want to meet the President
Of a country without sense

There is nothing that grows in his arctic world
There is nothing that grows in your arctic world
There is nothing that grows in this arctic world