Lucy, where are you now? (x3)
Are you hiding?
Born in the fire, babe.
Poetry on our graves.
I forgot so many names, but I'm trying.
I think it's time to go,
the bartender's leaning slow
and maybe he doesn't know
that you're blinding.
I need a night alone.
The wind through the trees alone.
But as if the glass alone, slow and shining.
Lucy, where are you now? (x3)
Are you hiding?