To the top of the tower, and all the freaks are coming too
With ersatz rebellion, pressed and polished for a week or two
I could laugh ’cause I know it’s true
They will look and not see you
To the top of the tower, there’s nothing else that I could do
A fantastic prospect, a giant vista there for me to view
I could cry ’cause I know it’s true
I see so far, but can’t see you
With dishes, antennae, do you ever wonder why that,
The people are not picking up on you this time?
What goes up must come down, but I’m sinking underground
And my bleeding hands scratch for the surface
What’s the point of it? What’s the point of it? What’s the point of it?
I’ll stay on the ground