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Late, late at night |
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24-hour store |
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Ghosts fly up the aisles, across the shining floor |
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Opening and closing automatic doors |
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Hands waving mirrors |
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Angels fly through lights |
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But the sleepless and lost push their squeaking carts |
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Down the rows of clothes and see nothing at all |
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No, no one hears the singing bones |
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And no one sees the crying ghosts |
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And everyone thinks I'm alone |
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All alone |
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But under concrete |
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And steel linoleum floors |
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There is a fire that will never die |
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A golden wheel inside the world |
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A golden wheel in plastic and bows |
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In particles of light that fall from the sun |
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A river of candles |
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Tumbling in the dark |
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No, no one hears the singing bones |
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And no one sees the crying ghosts |
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And everyone thinks I'm alone |
|
All alone |
|
No, no one hears the singing bones |
|
And no one sees the crying ghosts |
|
And everyone thinks I'm alone |
|
All alone |
