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Lit up like a Christmas tree, the oil refinery glows in the night; |
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and down by the shoreline the seagulls fly white, against the black. |
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The great moon riding shotgun - rolling out across the veil of clouds, |
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and you were small, and lying awake listening to the noises in the house. |
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With the best of them you ran, like all of us, in our season |
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Casting memory aside - your history, all forgotten; |
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driven onwards through the years in love with each distraction. |
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But all the while, the past is close behind; |
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like headlights on your tail, headlights on your tail. |
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Your pulse is beating faster now, like a bird flying hard against the wind; |
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trying to understand all the crazed compulsions that you feel. |
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And all the little jealousies and betrayals, they echo in the dark; |
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and somewhere back through it all, the key is still turning in the lock. |
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Now the ghosts that you have laid, they all come out to greet you; |
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the knowledge that you've gained - well, none of this protects you. |
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You've been so very far, still peace will not embrace you, |
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for all the while the past is close behind. |
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Like headlights on your tail, headlights on your tail. |
