The Land of 1000 Pianos

Please apply
the anes-
thesia

Make
this
pounding go away
Must be 50 new messiahs on the radio tonight
Yeah it's gettin' kinda hard ta keep my heroes straight

My speaker system's screamin' empty words that someone wrote
It's such a desert of the mind,
's like a dry and sandy throat
Where all the singers without songs compete to hit the highest note
The music was ours
They took it away...

Can't ya hear it?
It's all on the radio
Come worship the next new-found Christ
There's a guys in an office in L.A. or New York
Who'll teach us what music we like

Ezekiel came crawling through this valley full of bones
He saw the skeletons of poets
The ghosts of rock 'n' roll
Where there was once a magic jungle full of saxophones
There's nothin' but sand
The nights are cold

Then he stumbled through the temple and was blinded by the beat
And all the worshippers were droolin'
As they stared and scuffed their feet
Oh as the singer stood like Moses at the parting of the seas
Ya had to believe the music was ours...

Well, can't ya hear it?
It's all on the radio
Come worship the next new-found Christ
There's a guys in an office in L.A. or New York
Who'll teach us what music we like

Ezekiel exclaimed "You people just don't understand...
Ya took the music to Gomorrah and you built a golden calf
Ya know I used to be a singer in a heavy metal band
But this is a scam...
The music was ours..."

Well, can't ya hear it?
It's all on the radio
Come find the true meaning of life
The program directors and ratings collectors
Will teach us what music we like
Ah can't ya hear it?
It's all on the radio
Like insects we're drawn to the light
There's a guy in an office in L.A. or New York
Or maybe in Nashville or London who's money
Will teach us what music we like...

It's all on the radio
The radio.
The radio.