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Rush Album


Working Men (11/13/2009)
11/13/2009
1.
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6.
7.
8.
One Little Victory (previously unreleased)
9.
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12.
YYZ (instrumental)
. . .



Living on a lighted stage
Approaches the unreal
For those who think and feel
In touch with some reality
Beyond the gilded cage.

Cast in this unlikely role,
Ill-equipped to act,
With insufficient tact,
One must put up barriers
To keep oneself intact.

Living in the Limelight,
The universal dream
For those who wish to seem.

Those who wish to be
Must put aside the alienation,
Get on with the fascination,
The real relation,
The underlying theme.

Living in a fisheye lens,
Caught in the camera eye.
I have no heart to lie,
I can't pretend a stranger
Is a long-awaited friend.

All the world's indeed a stage,
And we are merely players,
Performers and portrayers,
Each another's audience

. . .



Begin the day
With a friendly voice,
A companion, unobtrusive
Plays the song that's so elusive
And the magic music makes your morning mood.

Off on your way
Hit the open road,
There is magic at your fingers
For the Spirit ever lingers,
Undemanding contact In your happy solitude.

Invisible airwaves
Crackle with life
Bright antennae bristle
With the energy
Emotional feedback
On timeless wavelength
Bearing a gift beyond price-
Almost free...

All this machinery
Making modern music
Can still be open-hearted
Not so coldly charted
It's really just a question
Of your honesty

One likes to believe
In the freedom of music,
But glittering prizes
And endless compromises
Shatter the illusion
Of integrity.

"For the words of the profits,
Are written on the studio wall,
Concert hall -
Echoes with the sounds...

. . .


"And the meek shall inherit the earth."

We've taken care of everything
The words you hear the songs you sing
The pictures that give pleasure to your eyes
It's one for all and all for one
We work together common sons
Never need to wonder how or why

We are the Priests of the Temples of Syrinx
Our great computers fill the hallowed halls
We are the Priests of the Temples of Syrinx
All the gifts of life are held within our walls

Look around this world we made
Equality our stock in trade
Come and join the Brotherhood of Man
Oh what a nice contented world
Let the banners be unfurled
Hold the Red Star proudly high in hand

We are the Priests of the Temples of Syrinx
Our great computers fill the hallowed halls.
We are the Priests of the Temples of Syrinx
All the gifts of life are held within our walls.

What can this strange device be?
When I touch it, it gives forth a sound
It's got wires that vibrate and give music
What can this thing be that I found?

See how it sings like a sad heart
And joyously screams out its pain
Sounds that build high like a mountain
Or notes that fall gently like rain

I can't wait to share this new wonder
The people will all see its light
Let them all make their own music
The Priests praise my name on this night

I know it's most unusual
To come before you so
But I've found an ancient miracle
I thought that you should know

Listen to my music
And hear what it can do
There's something here as strong as life
I know that it will reach you

Yes, we know it's nothing new
It's just a waste of time
We have no need for ancient ways
The world is doing fine

Another toy will help destroy
The elder race of man
Forget about your silly whim
It doesn't fit the plan

I can't believe you're saying
These things just can't be true
Our world could use this beauty
Just think what we might do

Listen to my music
And hear what it can do
There's something here as strong as life
I know that it will reach you

Don't annoy us further
We have our work to do
Just think about the average
What use have they for you?

Another toy will help destroy
The elder race of man
Forget about your silly whim
It doesn't fit the plan

I wandered home though the silent streets
And fell into a fitful sleep
Escape to realms beyond the night
Dream can't you show me the light?

I stand atop a spiral stair
An oracle confronts me there
He leads me on light years away
Through astral nights, galactic days

I see the works of gifted hands
That grace this strange and wondrous land
I see the hand of man arise
With hungry mind and open eyes

They left the planet long ago
The elder race still learn and grow
Their power grows with purpose strong
To claim the home where they belong
Home, to tear the Temples down...
Home, to change..

The sleep is still in my eyes
The dream is still in my head
I heave a sigh and sadly smile
And lie a while in bed
I wish that it might come to pass
Not fade like all my dreams

Just think of what my life might be
In a world like I have seen
I don't think I can carry on
Carry on this cold and empty life
Oh...noo!

My spirits are low in the depths of despair
My lifeblood spills over..

. . .



There are those who think that life
Has nothing left to chance,
A host of holy horrors
To direct our aimless dance

A planet of playthings
We dance on the strings
Of powers we cannot perceive
"The stars aren't aligned -
Or the gods are malign"
Blame is better to give than receive.

You can choose a ready guide
In some celestial voice.
If you choose not to decide
You still have made a choice
You can choose from phantom fears
And kindness that can kill;
I will choose a path that's clear-
I will choose free will

There are those who think that
They were dealt a losing hand,
The cards were stacked against them-
They weren't born in Lotus-Land
All pre-ordained
A prisoner in chains
A victim of venomous fate
Kicked in the face
You can pray for a place
In heaven's unearthly estate

Each of us
A cell of awareness
Imperfect and incomplete
Genetic blends
With uncertain ends
On a fortune hunt

. . .



He's got a road map of Jupiter
A radar fix on the stars
All along the highway
She's got a liquid-crystal compass
A picture book of the rivers
Under the Sahara

They travel in the time of the prophets
On a desert highway straight to the heart of the sun
Like lovers and heroes, and the restless part of everyone
We're only at home when we're on the run
On the run

He's got a star map of Hollywood
A list of cheap motels
All along the freeway
She's got a sister out in Vegas
The promise of a decent job
Far away from her hometown

They travel on the road to redemption
A highway out of yesterday - that tomorrow will bring
Like lovers and heroes, birds in the last days of spring
We're only at home when we're on the wing
On the wing

WHEN WE ARE YOUNG
WANDERING THE FACE OF THE EARTH
WONDERING WHAT OUR DREAMS MIGHT BE WORTH
LEARNING THAT WE'RE ONLY IMMORTAL -
FOR A LIMITED TIME

Time is a gypsy caravan
Steals away in the night
To leave you stranded in Dreamland
Distance is a long-range filter
Memory a flickering light
Left behind in the heartland

We travel in the dark of the new moon
A starry highway traced on the map of the sky
Like lovers and heroes, lonely as the eagle's cry
We're only at home when we're on the fly
On the fly

We travel on the road to adventure
On a desert highway straight to the heart of the sun
Like lovers and heroes, and the restless part of everyone
We're only at home when we're on the run

. . .



Pariah dogs and wandering madmen
Barking at strangers and speaking in tongues
The ebb and flow of tidal fortune
Electrical changes are charging up the door

It's a far cry from the world we thought we'd inherit
It's a far cry from the way we thought we'd share it
You can almost feel the current flowing
You can almost see the circuits blowing

One day I feel I'm on top of the world
And the next it's falling in on me
I can get back on
I can get back home
One day I feel I'm ahead of the wheel,
And the next it's rolling over me
I can get back on
I can get back home

Whirlwind life of faith and betrayal
Rise in anger, fall back, and repeat
Slow degrees on the dark horizon
Full moon rising is ever at your feet

It's a far cry from the world we thought we'd inherit
It's a far cry from the way we thought we'd share it
You can almost feel the current flowing
You can almost see the circuits blowing

One day I feel I'm on top of the world
And the next it's falling in on me
I can get back on
I can get back home
One day I feel I'm ahead of the wheel,
And the next it's rolling over me
I can get back on
I can get back home

It's a far cry from the world we thought we'd inherit
You can almost see the circuit growing
You can almost feel the planets glowing

One day I feel I'm on top of the world
And the next it's falling in on me
I can get back on
I can get back home
One day I feel I'm ahead of the wheel,
And the next it's rolling over me
I can get back on
I can get back home

One day I fly through a crack in the sky
And the next it's falling in on me
I can get back on
I can get back home...

. . .



Sprawling on the fringes of the city
In geometric order
An insulated border
In between the bright lights
And the far unlit unknown

Growing up it all seems so one-sided
Opinions all provided
The future pre-decided
Detached and subdivided
In the mass production zone

Nowhere is the dreamer
Or the misfit so alone

Subdivisions -
In the high school halls
In the shopping malls
Conform or be cast out
Subdivisions -
In the basement bars
In the backs of cars
Be cool or be cast out
Any escape might help to smooth
The unattractive truth
But the suburbs have no charms to soothe
The restless dreams of youth

Drawn like moths we drift into the city
The timeless old attraction
Cruising for the action
Lit up like a firefly
Just to feel the living night

Some will sell their dreams for small desires
Or lose the race to rats
Get caught in ticking traps
And start to dream of somewhere
To relax their restless flight

Somewhere out of a memory

. . .



A certain measure of innocence
Willing to appear naive
A certain degree of imagination
A measure of make-believe

A certain degree of surrender
To the forces of light and heat
A shot of satisfaction
In a willingness to risk defeat

Celebrate the moment
As it turns into one more
Another chance at victory
Another chance to score

The measure of the moment
Is a difference of degree
Just one little victory
A spirit breaking free
One little victory
The greatest act can be
One little victory

A certain measure of righteousness
A certain amount of force
A certain degree of determination
Daring on a different course

A certain amount of resistance
To the forces of the light and love
A certain measure of tolerance

. . .



And the men who hold high places
Must be the ones to start
To mould a new reality
Closer to the Heart

The Blacksmith and the Artist
Reflect it in their art
Forge their creativity
Closer to the Heart

Philosophers and Ploughmen
Each must know his part
To sow a new mentality
Closer to the Heart

You can be the Captain
I will draw the Chart
Sailing into destiny

. . .



A modern-day warrior
Mean mean stride,
Today's Tom Sawyer
Mean mean pride.

Though his mind is not for rent,
Don't put him down as arrogant.
His reserve, a quiet defense,
Riding out the day's events.
The river

What you say about his company
Is what you say about society.
-Catch the mist -Catch the myth
-Catch the mystery -Catch the drift.

The world is, the world is,
Love and life are deep,
Maybe as his skies are wide.

Today's Tom Sawyer,
He gets high on you,
And the space he invades
He gets by on you.
No, his mind is not for rent
To any god or government.
Always hopeful, yet discontent,
He knows changes aren't permanent,
But change is.

What you say about his company
Is what you say about society.
-Catch the witness -Catch the wit,
-Catch the spirit -Catch the spit.

The world is, the world is,
Love and life are deep,
Maybe as his eyes are wide.

Exit the warrior,
Today's Tom Sawyer,
He gets high on you,
And the energy you trade,

. . .



I get up at seven, yeah,
and I go to work at nine.
I got no time for livin'.
Yes, I'm workin' all the time.

It seems to me
I could live my life
a lot better than I think I am.
I guess that's why they call me,
they call me the workin' man.

They call me the workin' man.
I guess that's what I am.

I get home at five o'clock,
and I take myself out a nice, cold beer.
Always seem to be wond'rin'
why there's nothin' goin' down here.

It seems to me
I could live my life
a lot better than I think I am.
I guess that's why they call me,
they call me the workin' man.

They call me the workin' man.
I guess that's what I am.

Well they call me the workin' man.

. . .

YYZ

[No lyrics]

. . .


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