The Pleasant Peasant: Spring Street Sophistication

Lyrics

[Intro]
Spring Street, nineteen seventy-something.
The city hums outside the glass.
Inside, the sound is lower.
The clink of heavy silver on bone china.

[Verse 1]
The tablecloths are stiff with starch.
The conversation is hushed, but the stakes are high.
Futures traded between the appetizer and the main.
A quiet murmur of mergers and weekend plans.
Expense accounts, open like prayer books on the table.
They flew the fish in this morning.
Just for this.

[Chorus]
And on the wall, the peasants watch.
Hammered out of copper, warm in the dim light.
Their hands are on the harvest, their backs are to the sun.
They don't say a word about the work being done here.
The Pleasant Peasant, watching the pleasant peasants.

[Verse 2]
Richard Anderson's vision, polished to a high sheen.
Dark wood paneling drinks the light.
A snifter of brandy, warming in a palm.
The scent of garlic and butter, a ghost in the air.
Deals are closed with a handshake over dessert.
Another successful hunt.
Another kill, signed and notarized.

[Chorus]
And on the wall, the peasants watch.
Hammered out of copper, warm in the dim light.
Their hands are on the harvest, their backs are to the sun.
They don't say a word about the work being done here.
The Pleasant Peasant, watching the pleasant peasants.

[Bridge]
And then the city moved on.
Spring Street forgot this particular brand of quiet.
The tablecloths were folded one last time.
The copper mural taken down from the wall.

[Outro]
I wonder where they are now.
Those figures in the copper field.
Still watching, I suppose.
Reflecting a light that isn't there anymore.