There must be something out there left for me, in a world of star strung buildings and charcoal trees; maybe it's been lost in the breeze? Well, the night's gone grey and time has refused to change, so I'm waiting on eternity to bring me age; whilst i strut and fret this hour upon the stage.

There must be somewhere out there left for me, where moonshine melts into valleys of golden green; but the hills have eyes and they're all watching me. So I've been waiting on ashen shrouds to clear that sky, for rolling waves of blue upon open eyes; maybe we're all waiting for that light?

Well I've wandered moonlit streets for a little while, slept in a blanket of stars that made me smile; but pretty faces seldom last a while.