Sun sets over domes and spiresnLike a magic circlenit's over her head and under her tyresnIt's incidental,nbut she only has time for essential dreamsnSo she's still waiting 'cause it seems likenthere's nothing in the heart of the beasnI hear her sayingnWhat kind of life is this?nIt's in suspensionnWhat kind of life is this?nNothing happensnnIt's party time at the top of the hillnThe air is freezingnand the grass is like wire inbetween the treesnThe room is shakingnand I wish that I had more faith than thisnI see her dancing,nand if I could dance would she dance with me?nBut then she might saynWhat kind of dance is this?nIt's in suspensionnWhat kind of dance is this?nNothing happensnnWaiting for a miraclenOh but nothing ever happensnWaiting for a miraclenOh but nothing ever happensnWaiting for a miraclenOh but nothing ever happensnWaiting for a miraclenOh but nothing ever happensnNothing ever happensnNothing ever happensnNothing ever happensnNothing ever happens