On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair
Warm smell of colitas rising up through the air
Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim
I had to stop for the night

Panic on the streets of London.
Panic on the streets of Birmingham.
I wonder to myself,
Could life ever be sane again?

Pushing through the market square,
So many mothers crying.
News had just come over, we had five years left to sigh in.
News guy wept when he told us, earth was really dying,
Cried so much that his face was wet, then I knew he was not lying.

I stand at your gate and the song that I sing is of moonlight.
I stand and I wait for the touch of your hand in the June night.
The roses are sighing, a moonlight serenade.

Oh, I could hide 'neath [beneath] the wings
Of the bluebird as she sings,
The six o'clock alarm would never ring.
But it rings and I rise,
Wipe the sleep out of my eyes.
My shavin' [shaving] razor's cold and it stings.

Cold is the water.
It freezes your already cold mind,
Already cold, cold mind.
And death is at your doorstep,
And it will steal your innocence,
But it will not steal your substance.