I was born on a close street down a hill   The trees that line the street   Could sense the winter change   They felt the chill   They ducked and dived   And so we knew that they were alive   Until the year the silver rain came down   The trees turned mauve   And so did my hands   Oh, and the sound . . .   There was no sound and I'm freezing in the sun   Nobody cares to hide the dopeheads and the suicides   'Cause everyone freezes in the sun      I kicked around with Harry   Who lived near Salisbury Plain   He worked on the cathedral there every now and again   He worked with stone, carved with stone   Odd jobs on the telephone   One sunny day he was sent to the Houses of Parliament   chipping' away at the gargoyles   Under the blistering sun   He carved out "Maggie Sucks" on the backs of every one   And so in five-hundred years   There's gonna be some history here   After it all subsides in the sun      And it's fallin' away      Another year, another loon   A new pied piper calls the tune   So blow it up, watch it explode   Noah's ark on overload   Wrestle with the results and throw 'em round the ring   Everybody knows there ain't no rules in wrestling   The referee's a dupe   Who only old ladies and children believe   I'm getting up now to leave   I'll go back to that street someday   The air's better there anyway   Though the trees are still gonna freeze in the sun      And it's fallin' away   And I don't wanna know   I'm glad I don't know   What's draggin' it under