THROWING STONES
(Bob Weir / John Barlow) 
The Grateful Dead


Picture a bright blue ball just spinning, spinning free 
Dizzy with eternity. 
Paint it with a skin of sky, brush in some clouds and sea 
Call it home for you and me. 

A peaceful place or so it looks from space 
A closer look reveals the human race. 
Full of hope, full of grace, is the human face. 
But afraid, we may our home to waste. 

There´s a fear down here we can´t forget hasn´t got a name just yet 
Always awake, always around singing ashes to ashes all fall down. 
Now watch as the ball revolves and the nighttime calls 
And again the hunt begins and again the bloodwind calls 
By and by again, the morning sun will rise 
But the darkness never goes from some men´s eyes. 
It strolls the sidewalks and it rolls the streets 
Stalking turf, dividing up meat. 
Nightmare spook, piece of heat, you and me, you and me. 
Click, flashblade in ghetto night. 
Rudies looking for a fight. 
Rat cat alley roll them bones. 
Need that cash to feed that jones 
And the politicians throwing stones 
Singing ashes, ashes all fall down. 
Commissars and pin-striped bosses role the dice 
Any way they fall guess who gets to pay the price. 
Money green or proletarian gray, selling guns instead of food today. 
So the kids they dance, they shake their bones 
While the politicians throwing stones 
Singing ashes, ashes all fall down. 
Heartless powers try to tell us what to think 
If the spirit´s sleeping, then the flesh is ink. 
History´s page, it is thusly carved in stone 
The future´s here, we are it, we are on our own. 
If the game is lost then we´re all the same 
No one left to place or take the blame. 
We will leave this place an empty stone 
Or this shinning ball of bule we can call our home 
So the kids they dance, they shake their bones 
While the politicians are throwing stones 
Singing ashes, ashes all fall down. 
Shipping powders back and forth 
Singing ´black goes south while white comes north´ 
And the whole world full of petty wars 
Singing ´I got mine and you got yours.´ 
And the current fashions set the pace. 
Lose your step, fall out of grace. 
And the radical he rant and rage, 
Singing ´someone got to turn the page´ 
And the rich man in his summer home, 
Singing ´Just leave well enough alone´ 
But his pants are down, his cover´s blown 
And the politicians are throwing stones 
So the kids they dance they shake their bones 
Cause its all too clear we´re on our own 
Picture a bright blue ball just spinning, spinning free 
It´s dizzying, the possibilities. 
Ashes, Ashes all fall down.