|By: They Might Be Giants|
The possible dream Finale of seem The moment that some call eternal That some call insane Now helmets on each head Awaiting the first lead The pageant is named the pencil rain
The infantry stands And holds out its hands The marshal's binoculars focus And skyward they train They're searching the yonder blue They look out for number two The heraldry of the pencil rain
[in Morse code] "Ay, ay, ay, canta no llores"
And now hear the roar That none can ignore The thunderous clatter of splintering wood And lives that are claimed And none who have witnessed all Can speak of a nobler cause Than perishing in the pencil rain The pencil rain The pencil rain The pencil rain