Amongst the motes of dust I can see them dance in the window now
On the city bus that we ride into this new life like a naked child
They're gonna hear from me
At the Academy, there was no-one home anyway (OK)
I used to walk the ceiling try to coax a little feeling out of my voice
Oh it was so unsteady but not a repertoire
I do think it's ready
They're gonna here from me
I will climb the crooked stair past the crochet prayer
That your Grandmother hung on your wall so plumb
Oh the scuff marks we made in the dark
I know who took the stuff hey hey hey hey
So put out the lights I can hear you better
Undo your hair, let it fall on your sweater
Oh tomorrows news tonight, tomorrows news tonight
Tomorrows news, come, stagger into the light
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