History
©1973 Andrew Calhoun, recorded on Staring at the Sun.
On the crusted city street, the stores are closing down
And old men leaning on the walls are the only ones around
To watch old Queen Victoria walk by them in her gown
The ballgame on the vacant lot is over, and it's gone
And I hope that someone else but me is staring at the sun
Well sometimes the freaks pass by and hide behind themselves
Their movement is over, or it's passed to someone else
And their empty eyes reveal that they realize it's false
And they mutter down the gutters in their cracking, shivering shells
As the maidens of the moment drag the water from the wells
I'm absolutely certain that the wind is blowing hot
I know just when you're with me, I know just when you're not
Centuries have passed, or we wouldn't have what we've got
You said not to forget all the bodies left to rot
Well now that you remind me, I suppose that I forgot
There is something in you that was there when you were born
You're lucky to survive, you're lucky to be strong
I am held a prisoner, I am just a pawn
My body shakes in anger as my brain is slowly torn
And I hope that someone else but me is staring at the sun