They led us onnThey said it would be yoursnTear down the borders, stop patrolling the shoresnLet us innnWe wrote a winter songnCome on, come on, come on, come on, come onnDon't shelve the operanYou've been working this long on itnTwelve years on the east sidenAnd still so house proudnnAll the neighberhood angelsnAre humming the songs [hum along] nTo themselves againnOh they seem to think that when you show up nYou'd look good in somebody's armsnnOh, you should have been a clerknYou should have stayed a strangernYou should have just done the worknBut it's too late now school's outnnWildcats - you were supposed to go wildnButchers - you shouldn't be obsessed with a childnNow Diorama Pete thinks he just sunk the fleetnMuch like him you know I live to be cornerednSo come onnnHey, Easterner, open your mouthnDon't speak in tonesnI know there's beauty in the bones of the dam that burstnI know you look good in the shadow of the diamond monger's thirstnBut get outnnTo the west there is an oceannThere is a mountain on the rightnNow will you walk awaynOr take the blame for the unfortunately namednChildren of this day; children of this night