I know I loved you then

I think I love you still

But this prophecy of ours

Has come back dressed to kill

Three stones on a mountain

Three small holes in a field

You’ve given me the big dream

But you can’t make it real

*Chorus:*

O, wicked world

Just think what could have been

Jerusalem, New York, Berlin

All I do is lose but baby

All I want’s to win

Jerusalem, New York, Berlin

*Verse 2*

A hundred years or more

It feels like such a dream

An endless conversation

Since 1917

Now the battery is too hot

It’s burning up in its tray

Young marriages are melting

And dying where they lay

*Chorus*

Our tongues will fall so still

Our teeth will all decay

A minute feels much longer

With nothing left to say

So let them win the battle

But don't let them restart

That genocidal feeling

That beats in every heart

*Chorus*