Ten thousand years of big ideas Distilled into a billion fears A grand design, a shiny rocket A bullet in a bully's pocket So mesmerized by particles We disregard the articles The ones we wrote to keep the peace Sullied now in blood and greed and grease Is this the best that we can do? Oh I can think of better things, can't you? With the devil's pitchfork in our hands We turn the fields of foreign lands We mine the Gulf, we dig it deeper We free the serpent from its keeper Yet these are the hands that fix the bones The ones that build with sticks and stones These are the hands that plant the tree The ones that pull the newborn baby free Is this the best that we can do? Oh I can think of better things, can't you? Oh I can think of better things That hands can make and hearts can sing For now we deal with those for whom A life is but a carnal tomb In which the darkness holds no power Neither does the final hour We may lament the deadly art Of tiny atoms torn apart Visions that we can't return And future fires in which we fear we'll burn But this is the art of those before Who found a cure within the core The noble mind behind the ray That eased our earthly cares away Is this the best that we can do? Oh I can think of better things, can't you? Oh I can think of better things That hands can make and hearts can sing And hearts can sing 1