When no one but the locals are around You will see them as they gather at the Center of this town to pay homage to their Monolithic patriarch who stands so tall He's seen from miles around They worship for the gifts that he bestows Like the water that they drink and use to Wash their dusty cloths, and the way he Represents them to the passers-by who constantly go trickling down the road. They will do as they are told. The old folks know their time has past for usefulness and Things that don't last, But they laugh themselves to sleep as they retire. Cause they remember when they built the frame That holds that head that bears the name, But the young ones shake their heads and call them liars. They know that someday he will come around And he'll realize he's far too good for their Midwestern town, And he'll pack his things and mover to where the people are, The southern coast where he'll become a star.