| The cushioned throbbing of a velvet moon |
| And the pregnant aching of an empty womb |
| The endless echoes of the noise we made |
| And the repercussions of each hand grenade |
| There’s aeroplanes and dragonflies. And infinite September skies |
| There’s anthems of utopia’s. And creeping wars and glaciers |
| Just listen… Just listen… Yeah! |
| Is there music in there? |
| Arrived within the creeping hearse. Vibrations from the universe |
| Awash with the glittering of city lights |
| The mouse choir whispered through the endless nights |
| And all alone to ride upon the froth. The human dreamt of taking off |
| Eventually, time corrodes the brain to rust |
| And all those dreams into diamond dust |
| Just listen… Violins and orchestras |
| For death and speculation, well there’s just enough time |
| Well there’s just enough time |
| We’ve got just enough time… |
| I felt the closeness of monsters as we slept |
| And the creaking of hands where masons met |
| The loneliness of a shooting star |
| And the beating of drums where the wild things are |
| And somewhere beneath the moon. A sonic boom, peeled off from a wing |
| Into the dark, into each heart |
| I heard the angel sing: «Que sera sera — Whatever will be will be» |
| And for death and speculation, well there’s just enough time |
| For each final separation, well there’s just enough time |
| Away on the breeze. My evanescent memories |
| Well I can feel them, but I can’t remember them |
| Well I can feel them, slipping away… Slipping away… |