Letras
Deer in the night run on cliff and lawn
Deer in the morning dead by the road
Flies are all humming, death does become them
Flies are all happy, they never know famine
Houses alike in circles and rows
Named for the lost woods, places afar
People inside them crowded and lonely
Dreams gently dying together alone
And the cars, they go one way
Cars, they come back
Every day but Sunday
And sometimes they crash
Waning moonrise, stars barely seen
The city's great filth, bright towers gleaming
Quiet is hiding from sirens and shrieks
But loves the good music in spaces between
Bats of dark cloud dance the dusk sky
From under the bridge out along the lakeside
Seeing with sound, hunting with song
Never colliding or killing their own
And the cars, they go one way
Cars, they come back
Every day but Sunday
And sometimes they crash