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*