Park Ranger

I'm standin' on a shrinkin' moutain
Lighting up by a drinkin' fountain
And thinkin' how come everything that's free is restricted
From trees in the parks to the deers, I'm addicted
Is it not offensive, my puff?
Is it? I don't know, campusing my tent on your grass
I'm approached by a dark stranger
He's just the guy who's aimin' to play the Park Ranger
He says what he lookin' at? How much are you payin'?
And did you stamp your ticket at the gate on the way in?
And I'm playin' at bein' free
So I'm prayin' he's not seein' me
He must have a torch or a flashlight
He sits on his porch at night and bats his lids
And the noise from the backyard, that's his kids
Yeah, that's his kids
They get the best of the landscape
The forest is natural, the rest is man-made
(man-made)
I wana see how things look before 3000
Crooks stole blade every blade of grass, all trees down the brook
I've heard there's money, innit? But this is absurd, man
There's gotta be a home for the fishes and birds
If my wishes were heard, then everyone else doesn't have to be (?)
I know then the world will be more like a factory
I actually realized you can't stop progress
You can get in its way by opposing the process
Every man for himself, the notion of success
Some people are content to focus on much less
And they're happy
Tryin' tell me that they're not
Tryin' to tell me they'd be more happy with what you sell me through the shops, and you could buy anything
As long as you have the status
The money - it just comes and goes, trying to catch the papers
People, for their loving stacks, a paper at its maker
Fortune just a walkthrough, then ahead and back to taker
Rest plus a piece of their cake, they want their best
They deserve it, cause they've earned it, but there's birdshit on the crest
So you can't avoid the dirt, no matter how many times you wash a shirt
It's often heard that lots of hurt is tailed out on purpose
And the office clerk in a buttoned shirt is selling out the workers
I believe it, 'cause I've seen it and it's got me feeling nervuos
Of course, the lower working class, a forge is still a murder
Well, that's what the TV says, I swallow every word
I can't be happy on my own I follow every herd
I can't be happy on my own I follow every herd