Listen to my story. Got two tales to tell. One of fallen glory. One of vanity. The world's roof was raging, but we were looking fine; 'Cause we built that thing and it grew wings, In Nineteen-Fifty-Nine.
Wisdom was a teapot; Pouring from above. Desolation angels Served it up with Love. Ignitin'[g strife] like every form of light, Then moved by bold design, Slid in that thing and it grew wings, In Nineteen-Fifty-Nine.
It was blood, shining in the Sun; First: Freedom! Speeding the American claim: Freedom; Freedom; Freedom; Freedom!
China was the tempest; [And] Madness overflowed. [The] Lama was a young man, And [he] watched his world in flames. Taking Glory down by the edge of clouds; It was a cryin'[g] shame. Another lost horizon. Tibet the fallen star. Wisdom and compassion Crushed, in the land of Shangri-La. But in the land of the Impala, honey, well, We were lookin' fine, 'cause we built that thing and it grew wings; In Nineteen-Fifty-Nine. 'Cause we built that thing and it grew wings; In Nineteen-Fifty-Nine.
It was the best of times, it's [was] the worst of times; In 1959; 1959; 1959; 1959; 1959; 1959; 1959. It was the best of times; It was the worst of times. [In] Nineteen-Fifty-Nine.