Welcome, my son
To where the work is never done
And the hungry are seldom ever fed


The department of false hope
Is a proving ground for dopes

And they'll grind your tiny bones to make their bread (Hosanna)

So hold your head up high, forgotten man

Tomorrow won't be made for you
And everybody's gotta try to lend a helping hand
For god and man, there's nothing more to do


It crackled on the radio
Through bright plumes of the sun

The announcer said the age of faith was dead

Though the adolescent nation

Was just looking for salvation
The beast of reason reared its ugly head (Hosanna)


So hold your head up high, forgotten man
Tomorrow's not for me and you
And everybody's gotta try to lend a helping hand

For god and man, there's nothing more to do

From your cradle of destruction

With the poorest of instruction
And the merest sliver of a tune
Oh, you managed somehow to muddle through


So hold your head up high, forgotten man
Tomorrow's not for me and you

And everybody's gotta try to lend a helping hand
For god and man, there's nothing more to do


There is nothing more...