I rather not think about tomorrow But tomorrow is never planned We leave it to someone Don't know it's no room With our heads burried in the sand We leave it in their hands And they do the surf All the things that a man should hold A real hand on them And in our hands There's nothing there for us to go You got to reach to the little kings You got to live the little kings We are to be looking to something else Than the oil that the rich men have found I look at this power in the sun But they still be drain in the ground You've got to lead to the little kings You've got to lead to the little kings The more that we try to pretend That everything would turn out fine Easy to guess to take them far All the ever worsen line You've got to kneel to the little kings You've got to kneel to the little kings