Everyone's waiting for their ship to come in,
And they wring their hands and they drum their fingers on the walls that they built to be safe from the wind,
But they can't see out, and no one can see in,
And the world goes marching to a million drums, without a leader for the band.
And all the clever plans of mice and of men blow away like a child's balloon,
"Life's but a song," the poet once said,
But we never sing it if we never even learn the tune.
Everyone's scuffling to be king of the hill, and they shoot their guns and they blow their trumpets,
But the grand coronation is a short lived thrill, 'cause the king's got no clothes so he dies of a chill,
And the world goes marching to a million drums, without a leader for the band.
And all the clever plans of mice and of men tangle up like a ball of string,
Try as we might to simply pretend,
They were so important...ah, they never really changed a thing.
Everyone's clawing for their piece of the pie, and they stab at the crust with their forks and fingers,
And their tongues roll back from the bitter surprise, and they're spitting out feathers while the blackbirds fly,
And the world goes marching to a million drums, without a leader for the band.
And all the clever plans of mice and of men blow away like a child's balloon,
"Life's but a song," the poet once said, but we never sing it,
And all the clever plans of mice and of men tangle up like a ball of string,
Try as we might to simply pretend,
They were so important,
They were so important, yeah,
They were so important...they never really changed a thing.
