Here comes the beekeeper

With her pitcher full of smoke

She'll put us all to sleep

I hope it's dreamless and it's deep

Sweet Prometheus, come home

They took away our fire

And all that scarcity promotes

Is desperate men and tyrants

What fine design!

What hands, what minds!

The envy of Eden

Our tools and our reason

It's clear in the animals' eyes (in the animals')

We stand upright

Build fires at night

Made on the sixth day to rest on the seventh

And now we just try to survive

The surgeon and farmer meet

And each greets the other with a bow

They're kindred instruments, you know

The scalpel and the plow

And in the shadow of the mountain

We work when work abounds

And we wear out all our prayers

When the work runs out (oh)

(Hey, hey, hey)

(Hey, hey, hey)

(Hey, hey, hey)

(Oh, oh)

(Hey, hey, hey)

What fine design!

What hands and minds!

(The envy) The envy of Eden

Our tools and our reason

It's clear in the animals' eyes (in the animals' eyes)

We stand (stand) upright (upright)

Build fires (fires) at night (night)

Made on the sixth day to rest on the seventh

And now we just try to survive