Empty hearts with clever voices.

Empty hearts with clever voices, they're the Masters of the game.
Forever preaching from their pulpits who to bless and who to blame.
They speak of God like He's a loan shark - always waiting to be paid.
But the price of your salvation is to be constantly afraid.
So you listen to your masters - fight for oil in some far distant land.
Convinced that it's your duty and you will go to Heaven as you planned

Empty hearts with clever voices, feeding twisted visions to the blind
Greedy men with wicked motives, masquerade as good and kind.
While the rich keep getting richer and the poor don't seem to mind.
Dreaming of some distant Heaven, a paradise they'll never find.
While the blind keep getting blinder convinced that things are going well
The empty hearts with clever voices are busy turning heaven into hell

Why does no-one ever notice that the shepherds hate their sheep?
Employ rabid dogs to scare them while they shiver in their sleep.
And the few who see a glimmer - perhaps a glimpse of what could be...
Always blame God, not the 'Masters'... misunderstanding what they see.

What stops us sitting in the moonlight instead of watching movie stars?
Why does no-one curse the oil-men or the ones who make the cars?
Why does no-one ever listen when you say the world's in pain.
It's because we're all born losers - scared of losing out again.

Yet the things we're holding on to - are the things that make us lose...
So we smoke another cigarette - take another swig of booze.
Another step away from Heaven - another step toward some Hell
Cursing God for all our troubles - wondering why we don't feel well.

And the cars keep getting bigger and the TV's do the same.
So we promise that tommorow - we will start a brand new game.
But you know it just won't happen - resolutions made in vain.
Because we're just born losers - getting sold out once again!

With aknowledgement, apologies and thanks to Kris Kristopherson.