The boys are taking numbers
to stand in line again
born with an open hand
which of them will be men today
and draw a card that wins?

They're looking for a future
looking for their rising star
to shine above the fields
a voice shouts from the doorway
"C'mon in, boy, you're hired."

They say that in my country
when the market's weak there's war
and our coin is thin, my friend
dig a grave for the bravest ones
in endless waves of sand

For those who study nothing
but manufactured fear
choose the path of least return
for the sake of a fantasy
the world can burn
and burn.

The boys are drawing papers
to try their luck again
in a game where no one wins
where a number only measures
the days you've left to live

They're looking for a leader
who can see over the wall
"A promised land is there:
if a man can walk on the moon
a car can run on air…"

But the weakest form of freedom
is the one that isn't shared
the hand that's holding nothing
buys nothing without fear.
And there's nothing to fear
nothing to fear
but fear.

Still our boys are taking numbers
we've given them to play
on a corner where their future ends
which of them are men today
and draw the card that wins?

They're looking for a leader
looking for a rising star
to shine above the fields
but a voice shouts from the doorway
"C'mon in, son, you're hired."

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