I don't want to grow anything in my heart
  I don't want to write all these things int he sand
  I don't wish to listen and not understand
  I don't want to tramp up the footpath of stares
  Don't want to be an advocate
  Don't want to be a momument
  
  There is nothing that grows in your arctic world
  
  I don't want to breathe that Smithsonian air
  I don't want to listen when they toll the bell
  'cos I can't take another industrial feast
  On the ground, on my back, out there
  I want to meet the president
  Of a country without sense
  
  There is nothing that grows in his arctic world
  There is nothing that grows in your arctic world
  There is nothing that grows in this arctic world