I look backwards on the setting sun The warming colours touched me, heaven sung See truth shining through a cracking mould I was sold, how the surface gleamed Reflecting rays of hope, how the surface gleamed Fell on fences that were picket black A warning whispered on wind held me back
Deceived by blinding white textures of gold I was sold, how the surface gleamed Reflecting rays of hope, how the surface gleamed I look backwards on the setting sun I look backwards on the setting sun Now I don't run