A Grand Scene For A Color Film

Return to sender, I've fallen off the hint of suggestion

Unlearning the strange devices of the world

Is this the end of the earth. Or something like it

The great, the great universal coma has arrived

We are holding our hands towards the sun

Sit down, Come on sit down

Let's break out the shotguns, we're going to town

Return to sender, Carried straight from the womb to the grave

Your eyes have been paled to emptiness

All things have been carved out by the unceasing haunts of this

The Great Manipulator

The holding of our hands upwards and around the eclipsing sun

Has become empty and automatic

Sit down, Sit down, Come on sit down

Let's break out the shotguns, we're going to town

Let's break out the shotguns, we're going to town

You've given us user friendly grenades,

Just what are you trying to say?

Just what are you trying to say? (8x)

The holding of our hands upwards and around the eclipsing sun

Has become empty and automatic

Sit down, Sit down, Come on sit down

Let's break out the shotguns, we're going to town