Picture yourself, suspended mid-dream,
Superimposed on a flickering screen,
Closing your eyes, the images teem
And you're drowning
In ephemera hefting its temporal might
Of messages beckoning, flickering light-
You're almost detecting that something's not right,
A force that needs reckoning, just out of sight

I'd speak out of turn if I knew what to say-
The windmills have won and the straw men are slain.
You've got me outmatched, and outplayed, but I'm still playin',
Down in the ninth, 0-2 and swingin' away,

You condescend to me when I say,
"All of it all could be better someway",
Some pie-eyed Pollyanna, never passed eleventh grade,
When we know, somebody'd figure it out if it paid

Political complexities to dense to be unpeeled,
The historical immensity of our hands on the wheel,
Of an empire forged in guns, germs, and steel,
And Faustian bargains, dressed up as a deal

When we do the believing, and you keep the dreams,
We feel the feelings, and you tell us what it means
We'll stand our ground, and you'll work to scheme it away

We'll do the achieving, and you'll own the rights
We'll take the beating, and you'll pick the fights
We'll do the misreading of the rules you rewrite
You'll do all the speeding, you make the red lights

And we'll do the feeding of beasts that confound us,
We'll carry the water that they'll use to drown us,
And smile through the sting of their high-handed slights-
The price we pay to always be right.
Oh, the price I'd pay to be less right,

'Cause I'm righteous, indignant, and drunk with the thrill
Of tilting at windmills and plotting to kill
Some army of straw men way up high on the hill;
Mr. Smith throwing himself a parade, if you will

[CHORUS]
Goliath, meet David, in old running shoes,
Hammer in hand that he'd rather not use,
Poised for a battle he'll probably lose-
¿Attack or retreat? ¿Or simply refuse?
I'm losing myself in delirious dreams,
Delusional aims by mysterious means,
Unreachable marks by untenable schemes-
¿Will you hear me?

Precarious balance, each of us all,
Suspended in air, mid-calamitous fall,
And the time that makes widows of planets and gods
Is making us even, in spite of the odds

The sound of your voice getting lost in the din,
The illusion of choice, with the walls closing in,
Steeling your nerves for a fight you can't win-
If you have no mercy, then listen again

To the sound of your voice getting lost in the din,
The illusion of choice, with the walls closing in,
The jolt of defeat when you knew you would win,
The sound of my hay-maker catching your chin

If knocking you back on your jackboot heels
Upsets you, and gets you to feel like I feel
I'll keep ringing your bell like a noontime peal
So you hear me

I'm not asking for blood in the streets,
A head on a pike, or a senator's seat,
But a bully's gotta know that a bully can be beat
So he fears me

[CHORUS]
Goliath, Meet David