It's a holy place if you see things that way   Then they rattle the bones and the analysts play   From his backward collar on a worn out book   Another working class poet with an abstract look   So take me up to the edge of the world   And push me over again   Lead me up to the edge of the world   There comes a time   Now, shake your hair and rattle your cans   It's a service funded by a self-made man   Talks to victims and industrial spies   He feeds you tobacco for the four-minute mile   So take me up to the edge of the world   And push me over again   Lead me up to the edge of the world   There comes a time   With some strange god and a good right hand   We can chase the ghost from the promised land   If the promised land turns out as it should   We can flood the place with consumer goods   When the African general meets the bingo queen   And the collective farmer joins the teenage dream   When the miracle worker saves the chat show host   And the caveman paints another holy ghost   So take me up to the edge of the world   And push me over again   Lead me up to the edge of the world   There comes a time   So take me up to the edge of the world   And push me over again   Lead me up to the edge of the world   There comes a time   We can storm the walls in our leisure wear   While we trap the beast in his stormy lair   Then we'll smooth his image and we'll save his soul   While we fill our schools with the gold we stole   With some strange god and a good right hand   We can chase the ghost from the promised land   If the promised land turns out as it should   We can flood the place with consumer goods