Bring Out Your Dead

The rainbow is empty And the lights hang low There is a private eye In the centre of it all Driving down Sunset Boulevard Looking, looking for the song The starman has gone And lately Leonard Cohen too There are thieves in the temple Pretenders from thrones underground And who really cares anymore We all chase the wind Give up your ghosts Bring out your dead The church of Jesus Christ And latter-days saints Bright young Americans There is one, one on every corner The holy books are open wide But the future is murder Dead birds fall from the sky Black jackals crawling Give up your ghosts Bring out your dead