Terms of Endearment Lyrics

I shuffle each day past the greensward peasants
Molding somebody's earth
The helmsman directs from the bed of the crate
And fingers his pockets for all that they're worth

Bootstraps were made to be broken
By a wealth of invisible hands
Dignity force-fed, then stolen
And packaged by the choicest of brands

They surface as soon as the workers are gone
And kiss on the edge of their fertilized lawn
And he says, ?Dear, I love you?
And she says, ?God, I love you?

They watch the sun set on the boys in the street playing God with a magnifying lens
With a hand on her stomach, she whispers to him, ?I hope we have children like them?