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The Cost! The Price!
Elway (2)
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Grew up in the shadow of the city on the hill
In a smoldering hinterland of booze and guns and pills
Slouching toward Bethlehem with no time left to kill
With all the grist bound for the mill
If your salvation is a trinket, you can buy
Carelessly calculate the cost, but not the price
Somehow the workweek leaves you hung up out to dry
Empty pockets inside out and wondering why
If you don't get your answer, baby
Maybe ask yourself the question again
If you can't point out your enemies
Maybe start by taking stock of your friends
Tucked between the pages of the Sunday New York Times
Faded on the fragrance of those fashionable lies
Smugly convinced you have the rabble on your side
You look down your fucking nose as you pass by
The piety and platitude diffused light through a champagne flute
You criticize the etiquette of a starving child in front of you
The dilettante luxuriance just cheap talk and a bowl of mush
As you play both sides from the fence line
Taking kickbacks from the fucking cops
I can't say how it started, baby
But I know exactly how it should end
A peerage painted with rifle fire
I'll settle for a rolling of heads
As long as they're dead
(As long as they're dead)
(As long as they're dead)
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