Sirens ring through all the radios,
 Stars disppear in the clear,
 and the neighbors on the rooftops.
 Panic sweeps through all religion
 a billion odd years of leisure
 and invention make me hope. 
 
 I'm running out of lucky stars to count on.
 I'm running out
 I'm running out of lucky stars to count on.
 I'm running out
 
 Cars stop dead without a reason
 and sighs in the sky say
 "We need a chage of season, now."
 Why they're here?
 Well, No One can say.
 Maybe They're here with the cure,
 or to end the Great Debate.
 
 Sirens ring through all the radios,
 Stars disppear in the clear,
 and the neighbors on the rooftops.
 
 I'm running out of lucky stars to count on.
 I'm running out
 I'm running out of lucky stars to count on.
 I'm running out
 
 Take me flying.
 Take me flying now.
 Take me flying.
 Take me high.
 Let it out.
 Let it out now.
 Make a Sound that rattles all of us to our bones.
 Let it out.
 Let it out now.
 Make a Sound that rattles all of us to our bones.