| Oh, oh
|
| Oh, oh
|
| The surface of the sun needs a golden one
|
| A perfect golden gun for what’s to be done
|
| Hanging by the moon we could be there soon
|
| It’s perfect and too soon to be roughly hewn
|
| We watch new things with old eyes
|
| Like strangers with no hearts
|
| Stuck in our glory days
|
| Among strangers building walls
|
| And I speak calmly to the trees
|
| Tryin' to give them hope
|
| And however slowly time
|
| Destroys our common grounds
|
| The surface of the sun needs a golden one
|
| A perfect golden gun for what’s to be done
|
| Hanging by the moon we could be there soon
|
| It’s perfect and too soon to be roughly hewn
|
| Oh, oh
|
| Oh, oh
|
| We hear old words with new ears
|
| Like young ones with no remorse
|
| Stuck in the past no more
|
| Among losers without shame
|
| And I speak calmly to the trees
|
| Tryin' to give them hope
|
| And however slowly time
|
| Destroys our common grounds
|
| The surface of the sun needs a golden one
|
| A perfect golden gun for what’s to be done
|
| Hanging by the moon we could be there soon
|
| It’s perfect and too soon to be roughly hewn
|
| The surface of the sun needs a golden one
|
| Hanging by the moon we could be there soon
|
| Oh, oh
|
| Oh, oh |