Not by my own hand 
 Automatic writing by phantom limb 
 Not with my own voice 
 Pleurisy made to stand on two legs 
 That's how I bar my door? 
 In this age of blasting trumpets 
 Paradise for fools 
 Infinite wrath 
 In the lowest deep a lower depth 
    I don't want to hear those vile trumpets anymore 
 Conscience wakes despair 
 The night is an accumulation of dark air 
 The scholar will be forever poor 
 Gross gold runs headlong to boor 
 I don't want to hear those vile trumpets anymore 
 Call me heraclitus the obscure 
 Constantly weeping because the river doesn't move 
 It doesn't flow 
 It's been leaded by snider men to make a profit from the poor 
 Don't want to hear those vile trumpets anymore   
 People live with a private understanding 
 Sorrow's the wind blowing through 
 Truth is hiding in the wire   
 Elvis outside of flagstaff 
 Driving a camper van 
 Looking for meaning in a cloud mass 
 Sees the face of joseph stalin 
 And is disheartened 
 Then the wind changed the cloud into his smiling lord 
 And he was affected profoundly 
 But he could never describe the feeling 
 He passed away on the bathroom floor   
 She's just trying to reach you 
 She's just trying to reach you 
 She's just trying to reach you 
 She's just trying to reach you   
 She's just trying to reach you 
 She's just trying to reach you 
 She's just trying to reach you 
 She's just trying to reach you   
 She's just trying to reach you 
 She's just trying to reach you 
 She's just trying to reach you 
 She's just trying to reach you   
 She's just trying to reach you 
 She's just trying to reach you 
 She's just trying to reach you 
 She's just trying to reach you