There's no one there in a golden chair Smiling in benevolence at us down where Everything's gone wrong, for the price of a song You can buy a gun and make yourself feel strong. And the train rolls on, the driver's gone Scrambled out the window when he saw we're done for Now there's no control, and on we roll Crashing down the hill although we somehow still believe There's no nice man, no master plan Filled with hidden meaning no one understands 'Cause he's lost his place, he's lost this race And all we want is money in or blood red hands So the train rolls on, the driver's gone Trying to save his skin from all the shit we're in Now there's no control and on we roll Crashing down the hill although we somehow still believe What on earth is this supposed to be? Who created this catastrophe? You ask for faith from people, then you give us this Reality Glory be