All eyes ablazenWe saw her in the old light, whoa, in the old lightnSeventy years to fly closer to sunlight, whoa, to the sunlightnShe sings to the stereo, making dirty pictures with her hands in the lamplightnAnd knows where the mourners gonWe'll sing a coronet, bringing her back from the grey lightnnClimb through the car of girlsnScreaming through the streets, hard at his lungsnAnd computer listens to everything, whispering asleep if there's a drift from old mallnnYears are a trifling thing nPassing in an eye's blink, whoa, in an eye's blinknForty five years go by in nothing but a day's time, whoa, in a day's timennTake take take take take takennAll eyes ablazenHe saw her in the old light, whoa, in the old lightnSeventy years to fly closer to the sunlight, whoa, closer to the sunlig-