Swing down with a cold-hearted hand of the wood As you watch little of our meekest desires And we hold on to even less of our intrinsical selves. Walk past, shoulder brush, electric sky Did we ever see that it has been replaced? Did we ever look up to protect what is ours? Swing down with a warm-blooded axe of the steel. Still as you cry. Still as you die. Oh, metropolis What a day to be free.