This is not a model fit for any mold
The twisted, old, and bitter tongues are reckless just as they are cold
Dwelling on the dying is wet fingers to the flame
I cannot say that I believe in everything that you propose to me
I'd rather learn from children
I'd rather see their world
In all its natural splendor
All its harsh distress unknown
Not what's old and jaded
Forgotten or ignored
Or in the way of anything
There to keep the flame from burning
I read the writing on the wall
And all I see is "Who has lost the sense?"
I see the writing on the wall
And all I see is "Got to get it to give"
Got to get it to give
I want to know what you, what you know
Not the little things you'll learn to guard you
All the little things we'll teach you
All that I care to know is what you're wondering
All that I care to see is what you're seeing
I read the writing on the wall
And all I see is "Who has lost the sense?"
I see the writing on the wall
And all I see is "Got to get it to give"
Got to get it to give
