Picking up the pieces of a tragedy That implicates us all Life comes in, life goes out When the vultures come to town Searching for an answer in the madness of bad ideology 200 pints of blood 200 pints of blood Oh-oh-oh, please don't go Nothing grows, down that road Oh-oh-oh, hold me close Nothing grows, down that road Not one stone to cast before the cure is found It's agreed that you'll need to come clean To confess on your own Not one stone to cast before this hallowed ground It's agreed that you'll need to come clean And come quietly alone Oh-oh-oh, tormented soul Nothing grows, down that road Oh-oh-oh, rain your blows We still know who we are All our streets are burning with the need for progress Need to carry on