Texty: Robert Forster. Demon Days.

In these demon days
We?re pulling our pay
The lights on the hill
Are freezing us still
The fingers of fate
Stretch out and take
Us to a night
But something?s not right
Something?s gone wrong

The half whispered hopes
The dreams that we smoked
Puffed up and ran
As only dreams can
Dreamt by the young
Sparks to be sung
In places so bright
But something?s not right
Something?s gone wrong