| From the Arizona desert
|
| To the Salisbury Plain
|
| Lights on the horizon
|
| Patterns on the grain
|
| Anxious eyes turned upward
|
| Clutching souvenirs
|
| Carrying our highest hopes
|
| and our darkest fears
|
| They swear there was an accident
|
| back in '47
|
| Little man with a great big head
|
| Splattered down from heaven
|
| Government conspiracy
|
| Cover-ups and lies
|
| Hidden in the desert
|
| under endless skies
|
| Well, it’s a cold, cold, cold, cold, cold, cold, cold, cold
|
| Post, postmodern world
|
| No time for heroes, no place for good guys
|
| No room for Rocky The Flying Squirrel
|
| They’re not here, they’re not coming
|
| Not in a million years
|
| Turn your weary eyes back homeward
|
| Stop your trembling, dry your tears
|
| You may see the heavens flashing
|
| You may hear the cosmos humming
|
| But I promise you, my brother
|
| They’re not here, they’re not coming
|
| Would they pile into the saucer
|
| Find Orlando’s rat and hug it?
|
| Go screaming through the universe
|
| Just to get McNuggets?
|
| Well, I don’t think so, I don’t think so
|
| It’s much too dangerous, it’s much too strange
|
| Here in a world that won’t give Oprah
|
| no home on the range
|
| Well, it’s a cold, cold, cold, cold, cold, cold, cold, cold
|
| Post, postmodern world
|
| No authenticity, no sign of soul
|
| The radio won’t play George and Merle
|
| They’re not here, they’re not coming
|
| Not in a million years
|
| 'Til we put away our hatred
|
| 'Til we lay aside our fears
|
| You may see the heavens flashing
|
| You may hear the cosmos humming
|
| But I promise you, my sister
|
| They’re not here, they’re not coming
|
| To this garden we were given
|
| And always took for granted
|
| It’s like my daddy told me,
|
| «You just bloom where you’re planted.»
|
| Now you long to be delivered
|
| From this world of pain and strife
|
| That’s a sorry substitution
|
| for a spiritual life
|
| (Solo)
|
| Well, it’s a cold, cold, cold, cold, cold, cold, cold, cold
|
| Post, postmodern world
|
| No place for sentiment, no room for romance
|
| Bring back the Duke of Earl
|
| They’re not here, they’re not coming
|
| Not in a million years
|
| Turn your hopes back homeward
|
| Hold your children, dry their tears
|
| You may see the heavens flashing
|
| You may hear the cosmos humming
|
| But I promise you, my brother
|
| They’re not here, they’re not coming
|
| They’re not here, they’re not coming
|
| Not in a million years
|
| 'Til we put away our hatred
|
| And lay aside our fears
|
| You may see the heavens flashing
|
| You may hear the cosmos humming
|
| But I promise you, my brother
|
| They’re not here, they’re not coming. |