We Are Undone

Father, has the marketplace done us any good?

Like you always claimed it would?

The field is dry and barren, and there's blight upon the vine

As long as your cup's full, everything is fine

Son, has your sympathy done any good?

Like you always claimed it would?

You sing to the choir and they know every line

But when they leave your world, they return to mine

You think your voice is real

I thunder while you squeal

So you can ring their ears

But I'm the one they hear