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,
shake the many hands
There's nothing on the top but a bucket and a mop
And an illustrated book about birds
You'll see a lot up there but don't be scared
Who needs action when you got words
You finish with the mop and you can stop
and look at what you've done
The plateau's clean,
no dirt to be seen, and the work, it was fun
Taken from AlbumSongAndLyrics.com
Many a hand's began to scan
around for the next plateau
Some say it was greenland,
and some say mexico
Others decided it was
nowhere except for where they stood
But those were all just guesses,
wouldn't help you if they could