Your class, your caste, your country, sect, your name or your tribe
There's people always dying trying to keep them alive
There's bodies [bad word] in containers tonight
In an abandoned building where
The squatters made a mural of a Mexican girl
With fifteen cans of spray paint in a chemical swirl
She's standing in the ashes at the end of the world
Four Winds blowing through her hair

But when Great Satan's gone... the [bad word] of Babylon...
She just can't sustain the pressure will displace
She caves

The Bible's blind. The Torah's deaf. The Qu'ran is mute.
If you burned them all together you’d get close to the [bad word] Still they’re pouring over sandscript under Ivy League moons
While shadows lengthen the sun
Cast on a school and meditation built to soften the times
And hold us at the center while the spiral unwinds
It's knocking over fences, crossing property lines
Four Winds cry until [bad word] 
It's the Sum of Man slouching towards Bethlehem
heart just can't contain all of that empty space
It breaks. It breaks. It breaks.

Well I went back by rented Cadillac [bad word] jet
Like a newly orphaned refugee retracing my steps
All the way to Cassadaga [bad word] with the dead
They said, "You'd better look alive"
And now it’s off to old Dakota where a genocide sleeps
In the Black Hills, the Badlands, the calloused East
I buried my ballast. I made my peace.

Heard Four Winds leveling the pines

But when Great Satan's gone, the [bad word] of Babylon
She just can't remain with all that outer space
She breaks. She breaks. She caves. She caves.

You'd better look alive