In a future,
of old democracy...

I'm waiting for the rails to talk,
as we travel the continent...

White powder,
revolver...

I guess I've fallen on some hard times,
the days just seem much longer...

I stare at the wall,
meanlingless without...

Wild wind is blowing through the land,
coming for the things you don't understand...

You ask me to come over,
bring my cotton words of love...

I can't bring you down,
watch the angels fall...

In the shadows,
behind a tree...

You cross your legs when you sit,
a touch of upper-class when you talk...

Secret love from across the sea,
pulls darkness away from me...

On top, down low.
I'm stuck, you know...