In the eyes of the world your touch is like gold   Your reputation's so cool and cruel and controlled   You count your money in your prison tower   Made of concrete, glass, and steel   Feeling cozy in the hollow warmth of another business deal      You've climbed your way to the top but lately it seems   That there's a hole in the heart of the american dream   Sittin' pretty in your trophy room with your shining souvenirs   That just remind you of the wasted time and the lateness of the years      Is that all, is that all there is   Is that all, there must be more than this      In the eyes of the world your touch is like gold   Your reputation's so cool and cruel and controlled   In a moment it could all be gone in the twinkling of an eye   Then what's your pile of precious pride worth then   If you've never wondered why      Is that all, is that all there is   Is that all, there must be more than this   Is that all, is that all there is   Is that all, there must be more than this