Where the rich become the beggars
and the wise become the fools
some jaded heart may turn the page

and start to break the rules

way beyond the distance

the knaggy oaks of truth
wake thoughts of resistance
and send you on the loose


in the deep of the night
with your face on the ground

you'll learn to spit at the devil
not to get pushed around


in the deep of the night
when you gaze at the stars
when the fogs cry "freedom"

you'd better count your scars

maybe I'm sinner

and maybe I ain't no saint
but I know the ancient dreams
of the bounded and the chained


slavery or justice
holy preacher's fail

but preservatived lust
is getting outa jail now


in the deep of the night
with your face on the ground
you'll learn to spit at the devil

not to get pushed around