Postcard

lost sight of ground
 never been so down
 nothing here to stand on
 it's a war-weary road
 another faceless tombstone
 nothing here to stand on
 I turn to face the wind
 may never get out
 forever caught in a spin
 no better place to begin
 can't find the phone, can't hear to listen
 can't take along what we're missing
 just as well to write this postcard from hell
 and the bar clock says three a.m.
 fallout shelter sign above the door
 in other words, don't come here anymore
 too many miles between
 I heard a dead man scream
 nothing here to stand on
 each and every step
 reeling out more or less
 nothing here to stand on
 I turn to face the wind
 may never get out
 forever caught in a spin
 no better place to begin
 I turn to face the wind
 may never get out
 forever caught in a spin
 no better place to begin
 tried to stay, tried to run
 there's never been enough reason
 to believe in anyone
 this trickle-down theory
 has left all these pockets empty
 and the bar clock says three a.m.
 fallout shelter sign above the door
 in other words, don't come here anymore