Well the air was so light it fell like a feather  Fell down upon the land where the people walked  Well I ran and I ran from one house to another  I sweated out the fear that the boss-god taught  I saw a rusty old woman giving birth in the gutter  I went down upon my knees when the little tacker talked  And the way to go out was in a bottle of fear  In a body of anger and a gut full of beer  And Mt Nameless was listening, listening, listening, listening  Mt Nameless was listening  Well her hair was so light it fell like a feather  Fell down upon the line in the people's court  And she walked though the door with her hands tied together  Spitting on the faces that the boss-god bought  And that rusty old woman's giving birth in the gutter  I went down upon my knees when the little tacker talked  And Mt Nameless was listening, listening, listening, listening  Mt Nameless was listening  And the way to go out  The way to go out, the way to go out  The way to go out was clear