A holy man
His face etched out of stone
Wonders which way his wind is blowin’
In the eyes of The Lord he doesn’t have an answer
He may be wandering ‘til he gets wherever he’s going
We’re all wondering
Where we’re wandering
Will we be wondering
Until we get where we’re going?
Miss Patricia sits alone
On a bus bench waiting to go home
In the eyes of The Lord she doesn’t have direction
She may have wandered too far from her front door
We’re all wondering
Where we’re wandering
Will we be wondering
Until we get where we’re going?
The belly of The Beast rumbles beneath
Every footstep marchin’ down the street
How they tread suggests
They’ll never take a stand
And The Beast just wonders if it’s going to starve until the end
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