| Put your feet up on the dashboard
|
| Roll down the window
|
| The sudden chronic seranade
|
| From a thousand radios
|
| The sun burning into your eyes
|
| Like a blue blindfold
|
| We’re marching on the spot
|
| We’re marching home
|
| As long as you sit next to me
|
| We can burn
|
| I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth…
|
| See all around there’s brains in jars
|
| And engines idling
|
| You think out loud like you’re circling things
|
| In a magazine
|
| But the sound of your voice is enough to rescue me from the fireball at the end
|
| of everything
|
| As long as you sit next to me
|
| We can burn
|
| I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth
|
| As long as you sit next to me
|
| I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth… |