Here comes the beekeeper

With her pitcher full of smoke

She ' ll put us all to sleep

I hope it ' s dreamless and it ' s deep

Sweet Prometheus come home

They took away our fire

And all that this scarcity promotes

Is desperate men and tyrants

What fine design

What hands

What minds

The envy of Eden

Our tools and our reason

It ' s clear in the animals eyes

We stand

Upright

Build fires

At night

Made on the sixth day

To rest on the seventh

And now we just try to survive

The surgeon and farmer meet

And each greets the other with a bow

They ' re kindred instruments you know

The scalpel and the plow

In the shadow of the mountain

We work when work abounds

And we wear out all our prayers

When the work runs out

What fine design

What hands

What minds

The envy of Eden

Our tools and our reason

It ' s clear in the animals eyes

We stand

Upright

Build fires

At night

Made on the sixth day

To rest on the seventh

And now we just try to survive