Can you see the lonesome tree under the starlight?
The clouds have gone and the sky has won the battle for clear sight
The birds have left and there's not a sound up on the hillside
The cold has come and it's sweeping its way on 'til the low tide
On this December night,
There's a deafening call from a woman on the shore
She wants more, and she's asking me, "What is it all for?"
And I never want to tell her of the cold, of getting old
Of falling down to meet the ground, now only a memory of this town
Will you believe that this all is a dream, a feverish nightmare?
And that all that you've seen has left you unscarred and no worse for the wear
On this unfortunate night,
There's a heartbroken cry from a mother on the shore
She wants more, and she's asking me, "What is it all for?"
She's pleading with me, "Open up the door!"
And I never want to tell her of the cold, of getting old
Of falling down to meet the ground, now only a memory of this
We want more, and we're asking you, "What is it all for?"
It's nothing like we've ever seen before
But fortune doesn't always favor the bold, we're still getting old
Always falling down to meet the ground, still only a memory of this town