| A light is falling on schoolkid lovers
|
| Cold and blue as their eyes and hands
|
| He’ll remember — but she will imagine
|
| That moonshine fell on a handsome man
|
| He’s underneath the grid and lattice
|
| A burning office constellation
|
| And there’s a strip that’s flickering madly
|
| He concentrates with desperation
|
| Under neon, under neon
|
| I have lived and I have died
|
| Under neon, under neon
|
| I have passed my precious time
|
| Under neon, I pass my time
|
| I stare upon the city’s horror
|
| Tracing out its symmetry
|
| The local council’s hypnotist
|
| Has turned the street lights on for me
|
| There’s no escaping poetry
|
| It finds you as you are in despair
|
| And neon claws out the city’s darkness
|
| As you close your eyes and you turn away
|
| Under neon, under neon
|
| I have lived and I have died
|
| Under neon, under neon
|
| I have passed my precious time
|
| Under neon, I pass my time
|
| A light is falling on schoolkid lovers
|
| It’s cold and blue as their eyes and hands
|
| He’ll remember — but she’ll imagine
|
| That moonshine fell on a handsome man
|
| Under neon, under neon
|
| I have lived and I have died
|
| Under neon, under neon
|
| I have passed my precious time
|
| Under neon, I pass my time
|
| Under neon, I pass my time
|
| Under neon
|
| Moonshine fell on a handsome man
|
| Under neon, under neon
|
| Moonshine feel on a handsome man
|
| Under neon, under neon
|
| Poetry is at least worth finding |