From the fields of the burning wheatnTo the corners of the blank arcadesnWe hold our hands like cigarettesnThen we leave them dying in the grass.nnThe road is running out.nWe see it over our shoulders with everything we've lost:nFields of flowers, balanced powers,nThey're in recession with everything we love.nFreedom fading like voices ringing.nI feel it drifting away.nnWhen you raise your headnAnd you fall down to your knees,nWhile you wait for it,nWe're running fast as we cannDown a street with no end.nnLast night I had a dream that we were floating in the seanWith flags all around but now the colors had washed out.nThey were left innocent and free,nAnd there were bombers riding shotgun in the sky.nThey all turned into light and spread like starsnAcross the trembling black night.nThey're calling you now.nSo make the sign of the Southern CrossnAnd I will follow you down.nnHills of wonder, rolling thunder,nOff in the distance with everything we love.nnWhen you raise your headnAnd you fall down to your knees,nDo you feel ashamed?nWe're running fast as we cannDown a street with no end.nTake me home.nnKeep running fast as you cannBecause there's no place to turn on a street with no end.nn(Still the bombs blast,nAnd the bells ring,nAnd flags fly,nAnd we all keep onnMarching to heavennTo find out we all fall down again.)