Welcome, my son
To where the work is never done
And the hungry are seldom ever fed
The department of false hope
Is a proving ground for dopes
And they'll grind your tiny bones to make their bread
So hold your head up high, forgotten man
Tomorrow won't be made for you
And everybody's gotta try to lend a helping hand
For god and man, there's nothing more to do
It crackled on the radio
Through bright plumes of the sun
The announcer said the age of faith was dead
Though the adolescent nation
Was just looking for salvation
The beast of reason reared its ugly head
So hold your head up high, forgotten man
Tomorrow's not for me and you
And everybody's gotta try to lend a helping hand
For god and man, there's nothing more to do
From your cradle of destruction
With the poorest of instruction
And the merest sliver of a tune
Oh, you managed somehow to muddle through
So hold your head up high, forgotten man
Tomorrow's not for me and you
And everybody's gotta try to lend a helping hand
For god and man, there's nothing more to do
There is nothing more...
