The Wrath of God came pouring down on Saint John
and it tore that whole damn island into shreds
green helicopters soaring over the South Lawn
while the Newspeak robber-baron lies in bed
and back in the real world
with the TV on
the man with the party girls
and the red hats, the 10-handicap
watches on
he says
'we hear you calling
so loud and clear
we hear you calling
but we don't care'
we will raise a concrete barrier on your side
we will build it up to the moon
send you the receipt
leave you water in the desert for your last ride
as coyotes lose your children in the heat
and back in the power zone
on the ephedrine
the man with the telephone
and his name on every chyron
every screen
he says
'we hear you calling
so loud and clear
we hear you calling
but we don't care'
and brown is still the color of things
that live down in the mud
barely there, barely human
draw no breath, spill no blood
and everybody's got his place
yours is back where you come from
where you belong
when you're gone, gone, gone
we hear you calling
sol loud and clear
we hear you calling
we don't care
we hear you
we hear you
we hear you
we hear you
we don't care