The things I need come from a shelf
They all just seem to make themselves
I plant no seed and I tend no vine
And I have no feast at harvest time

I cut no wood
I bake no bread
I spin no wool
To warm my head
I put no paint
On a canvas white
To take a picture takes
Less of my time

I heat my home with electric wire
But I still feel cold because I feed no fire
And my car, it goes when my care has gas
So I don’t walk slow and I don’t walk fast

I cut no wood
I bake no bread
I spin no wool
To warm my head
I put no paint
On a canvas white
To take a picture takes
Less of my time

So fast
Where are we going?
So fast?
Where are we going?
Where are we going?
Where are we?

I’d trade my wage for a fertile field
For a plow and a spade and a pauper’s yield
I’d swap these streets for a single chance
To drop that seed from my own bare hands

Because the things I need aren’t from a shelf
And the things I need don’t make themselves
But I plant no seed and I tend no vine
And I have no feast at harvest time
No, I have no feast at harvest time