The Law of Average
The law of average says you pay
From the moment you're born until your dying day
Poor Mr. Casey lost his job
Now his pension won't cover his debt to the mob
There are swans and bombers, big and small
Flying together in the paint on his wall
From the Sistine Chapel to the Wailing Wall
Like a crumbling mosaic, the empires fall
The law of average requires no blood
But your clothes will get wet if you lie in the mud
There are artificial hearts and flowers
Implanted and planted in ivory towers
As the weather varies, hot and cold
The law of average is a constant zero