This is not a model fit for any mold The twisted, old, and bitter tongues are reckless just as they are cold Dwelling on the dying is wet fingers to the flame I cannot say that I believe in everything that you propose to me I'd rather learn from children I'd rather see their world In all its natural splendor All its harsh distress unknown Not what's old and jaded Forgotten or ignored Or in the way of anything There to keep the flame from burning I read the writing on the wall And all I see is "Who has lost the sense?" I see the writing on the wall And all I see is "Got to get it to give" Got to get it to give I want to know what you, what you know Not the little things you'll learn to guard you All the little things we'll teach you All that I care to know is what you're wondering All that I care to see is what you're seeing I read the writing on the wall And all I see is "Who has lost the sense?" I see the writing on the wall And all I see is "Got to get it to give" Got to get it to give