A Thousand Men

See Thomas Jefferson

On the eve of Bunker Hill

Writing words to die for

Writing sentences to kill



They've come to paint his portrait

So he grabs a chair and sits

As the surgeon orders cotton

For a thousand tourniquets



For God and country

For us and them

Every good idea

Kills at least a thousand men

At least a thousand men



See the able-bodied Christian

In a dark and savage land

Turn all those who will listen

That God was once a man



Through needles eye so narrow

He will lead them four by four

He's got nine hundred shackles

He needs at least a hundred more



A thousand men

A thousand men

Every good idea

Kills at least a thousand men

At least a thousand men



See the able-bodied student

In his laboratory coat

Whispering calculations

Like prayers stuck in his throat



Soon he will discover

Some flawless medicine

But right now he needs an oven

That holds at least a thousand men



Some are the means

Some are the ends

Every good idea

Kills at least a thousand men

At least a thousand men



One thousand one

One thousand one

Every man I know

Thinks that he's one thousand one



Nine hundred nine

His day is done

Every man I know

Thinks that he's one thousand one

I know I'm one thousand one