The Mountain Goats Album

We were hungry
There was no food
We were restless
There were too many things to do
So we gathered
In a concrete room
Eyes up at you
And in a small room in Brazil
We were waiting
And in a small room in Brazil
We were waiting

We were howling
Like dogs
We were feeling
The full brunt of the age
Guys from our neighborhood
Looking down at us
All of you, all of you
Rage, rage, rage
And in a small room in Brazil
We were waiting
And in a small room in Brazil
We were waiting

Shuffled up Sixth Street in the rain
Kept my head down as I looked past the people
And in the department store
I found what I was looking for
This is the church, this is the crucible
They come out to Broadway and they look for me
I'm on the red steps smoking a cigarette
Easy to recognize, black bandages on my eyes
This is the church, these are the congregants

Sun sets on the broad square and lights come up
Feel like this town's gonna put a quick end to me
But if I came here to drown, I'm gonna take a few people down
This is the church, occupied by the enemy

I saw the posters popping up around the city,
Pale blue and washed-out red.
I went down to the arena, pushing through,
Hoping I’d run into you.
Sweet freshly-scrubbed smell of the crowd,
All the excitement in their eyes.
We were all made young when he stepped onto the stage,
Like an animal escaping from his cage.

Raise the trumpet,
Sound the drum.
He whom the prophets spoke of long ago has come.

All of us, two days to leave when it was over,
Dawdled by the vendors for a minute,
Gathered underneath a summer sky,
I was hoping you’d pass by.
But though I didn’t see you that day, or the next,
I’m pretty sure that you were there,
Making your way among the young and happy horde,
Headed down to your reward.

Raise the trumpet,
Sound the drum,
He whom the prophets spoke of long ago has come

Running like a band of angry schoolboys
Up and down the well-lit streets today
Bashing in the heads of tax collectors
And anybody else who's in our way

Bathing in the sunlight that's our birthright
Waiting for someone to set the scene
Last time he came to town
A few stray coins came raining down
We scrambled in the dirt for them
Like ants around the queen
We take aim at the dawning day
And we shoot
Starving to death, starving to death
For the low-hanging fruit

Then all at once here comes the motorcade
Slow and steady down the beaten track
And as we're bashing out the windows of the limo
We notice there's nobody in the back

And the helicopter lands atop the palace
The royal guard assembles at the gate
The country's gonna burn
And we'll still have to wait our turn
Last among contenders of the super-featherweights
We take aim at the dawning day
And we shoot
Starving to death, starving to death
For the low-hanging fruit