I don't want to grow anything in my heart I don't want to write all these things in the sand I don't wish to listen and not understand I don't want to tramp up the footpath of stars Don't want to be an advocate Don't want to be a monument
There is nothing that grows in your arctic world
I don't want to breathe that Smithsonian air I don' want to listen when they toll the bell 'cos I can't take another industrial feast On the ground, on my back, out there I want to meet the president Of a country without sense
There is nothing that grows in his arctic world There is nothing that grows in your arctic world There is nothing that grows in this arctic world
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