The distance runs round a dusty road,
and just a few know where it goes.

The flare gun pointed to the sky,
hugs the curve traced through my eye.
That arc that bends down at its end,
landing, landing, landing in a clearer place;
landing, landing, landing in a clearer place;
landing, landing, landing in a clearer place.

There the grass will grow too tall
for anyone to see us if we crawl

and we'll look outwards from the shade
at every error ever made.

Then everything will start to shine
as we catch the falling light.
Each speck of dust will show us one
we'll someday, someday, someday love.
And we'll someday, someday, someday love.
We'll someday, someday, someday love.

And everyone who can't find the site
might as well end up blind,
'cause there is nothing in staying trite -
it's time we change our ways.

Yeah, everything will some day shine
as we catch the falling light.
Each speck of dust will show us one
we'll someday, someday, someday love.
And we'll someday, someday, someday love.
We'll someday, someday, someday love.