(Sullivan/Heaton) The lovers they kiss and slowly they turn For drawing a breath there is nothing but time A thousand million years before we
She stares at the screen, at the little words of green Tries to remember what to do next There's a trace of frustration that crosses her face Searching
(Sullivan) In the tall grass upon the dune He rests his head on you It's a warm wind and a faded sky You watch him drifting far away Dreaming
(Heaton) Justin Sullivan - vocals, guitar, keyboards, harmonica Robert Heaton - drums, guitar Nelson - bass Ed Alleyne-Johnson - violin Adrian Portas
And we watched him trotting away Two weeks later there's a feature In the paper called Britain's Urban Shame It's got the teenage thugs of the new estates
The vans they come in convoys now, stealing through the dawn Silent in the countryside in the hills up to the north There's road blocks on the Meden bridge
Take away our history Take away our heroes Take away our values And leave us here with nothing We were in the garden of Eden Just as children mess around
(Sullivan/Heaton) The bonfires blazed across the city The smoke swirling into the sky We were standing shoulder to shoulder Billy McCann and
Time passes slow - fields stretch out across open acres Time passes slow - the giant steps of mankind touch us so little in the great lands Our little
(Sullivan/Heaton) Time passes slow Fields stretch out across open acres Time passes slow The giant steps of mankind touch us so little in the great lands
Cause the rear rises up from the corporate slab all proud and flawless for you "Hello, boy," she says and the pack dogs gather slobbering around at
I was working shift on the six o'clock, quiet in the pale dawn. Found a bird caught in the machinery - set it free and watched it go Quit the job that
Stepping out onto the stage the smalltown star tonight Flexes out for fame and fortune into the lights The way she tears into the heart makes me realise
Look out of your windows, watch the skies Read all the instructions with bright blue eyes We're W.A.S.P's, yeah proud American sons We know how to clean
Dear Justin, I know it's been a long time Remember all those nights we spent sitting up talking in your front room About leaving this worn out world and
I went up to the mountain, apocalypse dreams in my head There was fire upon the horizon but it was just the sunrise turning red Maybe it's time, maybe
(Sullivan) Dear Justin, I know it's been a long time Remember all those nights we spent sitting up talking in your front room About leaving this worn
Rolling up tab ends that the baby's collected Waiting for the number that clicks on the wall. It's open season on the weak and the feeble Their meagre
