Lyrics: Many a hand has scaled the grand old face of the plateau, some belong to strangers, and some to folks you know. Holy ghosts and talk show hosts are planted in the sand, to beautify the foothills, and shake the many hands. Nothing on the top but a bucket and a mop and an illustrated book about birds you see a lot up there, but don't be scared. Who needs action when you got words? Finished with the mop then you can stop and look at what you've done the plateau's clean, no dirt to be s (guitaretab.com)