In the shadows, of tall buildings,
Of fallen angels, on the ceilings.
Oily feathers, and bronze in concrete,
Faded colours, pieces left incomplete.
The line moves slowly, past the electric fence,
Across the borders, between the continents.

In the cathedrals, of New York and Rome,
There is a feeling, that you should just go home,
And spend a lifetime, finding out just where that is.

In the shadows, of tall buildings,
The architecture, is slowly peeling.
Marble statues, in glass dividers.
Someone is watching, all of the outsiders.
The line moves slowly, through the numbered gates,
Past the mosaic, of the head of stage.

In the cathedrals, of New York and Rome,
There is a feeling, that you should just go home,
And spend a lifetime, finding out just where that is.

In the shadows, of tall buildings,
Of open arches, and lastly kneeling.
Sonic landscapes, at going this does,
Someone is listening, from a safe distance.
The line moves slowly, into a fading light,
Our final moment, in the dead of night.

In the cathedrals, on New York and Rome,
There is a feeling, that you should just go home,
And spend a lifetime, finding out just where that is.
Ohh, Ohh, Ohh,
In the cathedrals, on New York and Rome,
There is a feeling, that you should just go home,
And spend a lifetime, finding out just where that is.