Tv Smith March Of The Giants
You rise up over the skyline
Pushing everything out of your way
All around the dogs start howling
And the ground starts to sway
My house is made out of matchsticks
Your map has got a big 'X' on
You're so busy hiking your empire up
You'd let a baby drop from your arms
No-one can put a spring In your step
Or thaw your heart
It's not art, it's not science
It's a march of the giants
I wake up as the great leap forward
Crashes down on my newspaper bed
Right now I need another place to shop
Like a hole in the back of my head
I'll get another high-rise block
Whether I want it or not
It's not art, it's not science
It's the march of the giants
I'm staying small
While you grow strong
On a human scale of one to ten
I'm registering none
And I may be the first test-tube adult
But I don't know, I can't hear myself think
Over the click of the geiger counter
And the roar of the motoway link
There's a thousand homely dreams
That lie beneath your bulldozer, dead
When you demonstrate your talents
Clouds blacken and rivers run red
What you do for an extra slice
Of your daily bread
Is not art, and it's not science
It's a march of the giants
No-one can lighten your step
Or thaw your heart
It's not art, it's not science
It's a march of the giants