©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