Some people say there's no reason
The simple ways of the season
When the traffic lights hit suburban blight
Focus through the grey
Save the words I believe them
Hear it ringing hold it up to the light
Dreaming spinning fold into the white
Thrown into the shade
Feel it spinning slow into the night
The ghosts are out to play
She returns with a new friend
Matinée at the old Twin
And the moon it fights with the subway lights
Hurry through the fray
Fold the page when you see him
Hear them ringing hold it up to the light
Thrown into the shade
Feel it spinning slow into the white
Bells begin to play
Dreaming spinning colder at this height
Knowing you won't stay