Kaufman’s Ballad

Clouds covered stars
And hide their homes from flickering

Trunk of our car
An angel who has lost his wings

And he will shine
Tonight

Blueberry tree
The prophet who interprets dreams

Lay at his feet
An angel soaked in gasoline

And he will shine
Tonight

Smoke starts to clear
Clouds refuse to disappear

Dark desert night
As fire is our only light

A fallen angel
Burn out bright
Amongst the sands
That took his life

And flames right down
About to die
Pyres putting up a fight

We had no choice
We had to try
We had no choice
We had to try
We had no choice
We had to try