I Don't Want To Grow Anything In My Heart
I Don't Want To Write All These Things Int He Sand
I Don't Wish To Listen And Not Understand
I Don't Want To Tramp Up The Footpath Of Stares
Don't Want To Be An Advocate
Don't Want To Be A Momument

There Is Nothing That Grows In Your Arctic World

I Don't Want To Breathe That Smithsonian Air
I Don't Want To Listen When They Toll The Bell
'cos I Can't Take Another Industrial Feast
On The Ground, On My Back, Out There
I Want To Meet The President
Of A Country Without Sense

There Is Nothing That Grows In His Arctic World
There Is Nothing That Grows In Your Arctic World
There Is Nothing That Grows In This Arctic World