He was the poster child of miserable

He was in love with colored boy

No chance for hope in a land of servitude
And now the ghosts of Alexandria

Hang in the halls like the boys on the oak
To remind us that we're only 13 knots away
From repeating our mistakes

No one can see on the inside

No one can hear on the outside

No one will speak the name to blame
The dead sing: "It's not over."

She was the poster child of ritual

She was in love with the U.S.A

She was from some place but she could not tell us where
And now the ghosts of Alexandria

Labor the field like amber waves of grain
To remind us that we are only a minimum wage away
A bowl of rice a day

From repeating our mistakes
It's not over

No one can see on the inside

No one can hear on the outside

No one will speak the name to blame
The dead sing
And we watched the summer turn to the autumn of glory