Western

I must follow trackless wasted

And twist into your evening

I must cling to your landmarks

Bridge wait for early spring

I turn back into the limits of the day

Just falling forward touch and go

That lights no lamps it brings no comfort

In fact I did instead I often do

I, I my son

In western number one

I, I my son

In western number one

Dirty dreamers dream to feel

And speechless speakers speak to hear

Running headlamps until dawn

Stalins wave on you

I turn back into the limits of the day

Just falling forward touch and go

That lights no lamps it brings no comfort

In fact I did instead I often do

I, I my son

In western number one

I, I my son

In western number one