Its the demolition derby Its the sport of the hunt Proud tribe in full wardance Its the slow smile that the bully gives the runt Its the force of inertia Its the lack of constraint Its the children out playing in the rock garden All dolledup in black hats and war paint Sometimes it feels like bars of steel I cannot bend with my hands Ohoh I worry too much Somebody told me that I worry too much Ohoh I worry too much Somebody told me that I worry too much Its these sandpaper eyes Its the way they rub the lustre from what is seen Its the way we tell ourselves that all these things are normal Till we cant remember what we mean Its the flicker of our flames Its the friction born of living Its the way we beat a hot retreat And heave our smoking guns into the river You might also likeSometimes it feels like bars of steel I cannot bend with my hands Ohoh I worry too much Somebody told me that I worry too much Ohoh I worry too much Somebody told me that I worry too much Its the quickstep march of history The vanity of nations Its the way therell be no muffled drums To mark the passage of my generation Its the children of my children Its the lambs born in innocence Its wondering if the good I know Will last to be seen by the eyes of the little ones Sometimes it feels like bars of steel I cannot bend with my hands Ohoh I worry too much Somebody told me that I worry too much Ohoh I worry too much Somebody told me that I worry too much
worry, ohoh, much, somebody, told