| Familiar ground’s a distant thing
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| When you travel vague and crooked roads
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| And the sun’s a scab on vacant skies
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| Now we always hope we’re still alone
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| There’s too much time for idle minds
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| Imagination’s armed with hooks and knives
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| We count our fears to pass the time
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| Tired or not, don’t close your eyes
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| A picket fence
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| A painted house
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| A quiet life
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| One where our days are calm
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| And night’s are spent in kind
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| One where our hopes and dreams
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| Are attainable things
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| One where time can’t reach
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| Gain half the plains now
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| Cut mountain chains down
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| Sleep when you can
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| You can’t know how the night’s fall
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| Things will be better there
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| Things will be good there
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| Don’t stop to think
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| Just chase the dream we’re chasing
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| I smell the fireplace
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| Warm light, a warm face
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| A quiet life
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| A life, a life, a life, a life
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| A life along the breeze
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| The dogs came at midnight
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| Guns drawn and eye’s bright
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| I heard them laughin'
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| Black voices scratchin'
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| Black wind they move like
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| Our lives ain’t worth the millions
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| As dog’s tear the canvas
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| Flies on the carcass
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| But it buys the time we need
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| The dogs came at midnight
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| The dogs came at midnight
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| The dogs came at midnight
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| And I always hear them laughing |