The word of our Lord scratched in sand By the spittle-drenched flannel of man We struggle to stand higher But our feet are attached to the land ♪ Our souls are just arches in bones We've been crushed by sticks, buried 'neath stones We struggle to stand higher But our feet are attached to the land ♪ This moment is over, the idea that you Were the same when it started as when it is through Is the reason that old friends have problems with new thoughts And the new clothes that you bought for them to see you in