Changing their Names to Numbers

you can sell yourself to the federal agency
prostitute your conscience for a piece of plastic
or a paper degree
but when they come sniffing around
knock knocking at the door for me
tell them I’m rainbows away
and they will never own me

it’s the same old song about your barbie-doll kingdom today
where they teach the children that there’s no right or wrong
just as long as you’re the richest at the end of the game
and the people in power are looking down from their towers
where the poor are being pulped into pavement
they’re building a highway
an information skyway
won’t stop until the stars are dethroned

I don’t know exactly where we took a turn for the wrong
but there’s a rising tension that I’m sensing all throughout my bones
in the back of my soul I feel the thunder
of the earth’s decaying groans

bank balance, shape-shifters, sipping scotch in the shade
stalks his brothers, rapes his sisters just as long as he’s paid
some suburbanite hypnotist’s sending nations to the grave
and the slaves of starvation are sinking for the sake of his information
thinking he’s building a highway

they’re changing their names to numbers
and sleeping their dreams away

he who has an ear to hear listen to what I say
answer me, yes or no,
does the Tower of Babel still stand today
to the heart of the crowd I keep crying aloud
but not a single soul seems to see me
turn this sinking ship around
or we’re all gonna drown,
people, please believe me

I keep drifting drearily on through this delirious dreary daze
while a maze of greys and suits and ties
flies by me in a faceless haze
amazing grace how distorted the sound
of a blinded last stab at morality
it’s urban reality now
no time to cry
the skyscrapers require more lumber
I can feel the thunder
as I stand in the shadows of society’s slumber
where I silently watch you all
scampering madly around

changing your names to numbers
and sleeping your dreams away

and I just don’t understand
I’ve got a soul breathing through these bones
I wasn’t born a name brand
I’ll bleed if you cut me
and I’ll hold you if you hold my hand
you can break my body
but you’ll never own me
I’ll never be your crony
and your world of styrofoam phonies
can’t stain my spirit to gray

changing their names to numbers
and sleeping their dreams away