The Big (Myopian) Buck Boy Spins

I like his place, and I like his pipes
There's no way he be where winter ripens well
Aren't those magnolias that live on your street
Beneath the city's noxious heat?

Old justification sold back to your head
It's the only thing that keeps us dead
Well, once there were ten of many, many, many, many, many men
But now it's just nine of good fine friends of mine
(We're all helping each other, right?)

So I guess your father was a vapid spacе
And I guess, I guess your mother was a shorеless shape
But they bore it longer than was due
Their station or their circumstance
(Hey, wait a minute, that doesn't rhyme)
Oh, no

And don't he believe like a four-mind man
Yeah, he'd rather be right here, right here where I'm standing, but
Does it not occur to him that
Life on earth surrounds each spin?

And this time is this day and everyday
And this time is the toe-to-toe total turning away
Yeah, life on earth surrounds each spin, so go tell your mama
The big myopian buck boy spins
Like a broken door on a broken hinge

The world is too much with us
And leaning on the horn

The world is too much with us
And the world is too much
The world is too much with us, yeah
The world is too much with us, yeah
And it's too much with us, yeah
The world is too much
The world is too much with us
The world is too much with us
And the world is too much
The world is too much with us, yeah
The world is too much with us, yeah
The world is too much with us
The world is too much
The world is too much with us
The world is too much with us
And leaning on the horn

Is history an empty rind?
While the Greek city states flourish
Mound-builders inhabit the Ohio Valley