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