Under the city she rides the subway one last time The sharks were out tonight, they made another strike For a dollar and a dime Up in the white room beneath the cool florescent lights There is a plastic bag for the small and mute Who come at inconvenient times No more killing no more lies No more hungry babies' cries No more fear of man under the gun No more marches no more wars No more walls and prison bars No more wrong for right under the sun Along the Sudan the land is cruel and hard and dry The air is filled with flies and the look of death Stares out behind each eye Back in Dachau, living skeletons in cells Dante would recognize every room in here An exclusive, private Hell No more killing no more lies No more hungry babies' cries No more fear of man under the gun No more marches no more wars No more walls and prison bars No more wrong for right under the sun