The big wheels keep on turning
And dollars rise and fall
The chain of events is tightening
And the future’s on the wall
The growling monster rumbles
Sweeping all within its path
And crushing under bricks and steel
The present and the past
Endless throngs of bodies
Commuting on and ever on
Hands on mobiles, hands on wheels
The reasoning has gone.
The clock clicks over quietly
And nothing halts its call,
The sheep follow its hypnotic tick
Until the curtains fall.
The rumbling’s growing louder,
The machinery turns and turns
Fuelled by the fire of media
Whose hunger always burns;
And the glossy tabloid visions
Descend and hide the real
As audio, video, printed words
Tell a world how it should feel.
Fiery flames creep round the globe
Like a substance through a vein –
The media drug feels good and so
It dulls the earthly pain.
The wheels keep turning round and round
This thing called life goes on
With lives and fortunes in the wake
Of the monster when it’s gone.
And the little people disappear
A lonely tree will die,
But man-made wisdom rises up
Where the eagle used to fly.
The winds of change blow wildly,
The roar of engines drowns the cries
As a lonely planet turns in the dust
And a forgotten spirit dies.