| Looking out at all the people
|
| The stranger stares out from the steeple
|
| Gazing through the eye machines
|
| Searching for a face he’s never seen
|
| Keeping always very secret
|
| And the flowers grow from nowhere
|
| And the monsters stay in line
|
| And 100 000 telescopes won’t see me here tonight
|
| And the roundmen scrape their gardens
|
| And the hills are still alive
|
| And 100 000 telescopes won’t see me here tonight
|
| The boys are hiding in the mountains
|
| Drinking from the streams and fountains
|
| Sipping from a cup of stone
|
| This is where they made their hidden home
|
| Keeping always very secret
|
| And the flowers grow from nowhere
|
| And the monsters stay in line
|
| And 100 000 telescopes won’t see me here tonight
|
| And the roundmen scrape their gardens
|
| And the hills are still alive
|
| And 100 000 telescopes won’t see me here tonight |