I don't wanna grow anything in my heart
i don't want to write all these things in the sand
i don't want to listen and not understand
i don't want to tramp up the footpath of stars
don't want to be an advocate
don't want to be a monument
There is nothing that grows in your arctic world
I don't want to breathe that smithsonian air
i don't want to listen when they toll the bell
'cos i can't take another industrial feast
on the ground, on my back, out there
i want to meet the president
of a country without sense
There is nothing that grows in his arctic world
there is nothing that grows in your arctic world
there is nothing that grows in this arctic world