| Running, jumping, pushing its way
|
| Morning, nighttime blends into day
|
| Can’t find curtains to shut it away
|
| We were alone in the hills of the nights
|
| And the neon dawn lets in the lights
|
| And the milkman that nobody knows
|
| Brings bottles of tears
|
| At the house full of laughter
|
| Nobody hears
|
| Oh, the grass is turned black
|
| By the ship coming back from the stars (Golden stars)
|
| The seas turned to steam
|
| When we boiled the dream of tomorrow (Tomorrow)
|
| When it gets light
|
| Some of them always stay
|
| She’s dressed in white
|
| Till the smoke turns her grey
|
| Falling, stumbling, feeling its way
|
| Morning, nighttime blends into day
|
| Can’t find warmth to push it away
|
| I used to be alone in the hills of the clouds
|
| And the flotsam dawn, oh it brings in the crowds
|
| And the angel who sits in her car
|
| Full of despair
|
| And the hoses that came from the town
|
| Put out the fire
|
| Oh, the seas have run dry
|
| When the sun’s one good eye is too blind to see
|
| The gods have gone bad
|
| From the good times we had burning bright (Such good times)
|
| When it gets light
|
| Some of them always stay
|
| She’s dressed in white
|
| Till the smoke turns her grey
|
| She’s gray
|
| Ah, she’s gray
|
| Oh, she’s gray |