Return to sender, I've fallen off the hint of suggestion Unlearning the strange devices of the world Is this the end of the earth. Or something like it The great, the great universal coma has arrived
We are holding our hands towards the sun Sit down, Come on sit down Let's break out the shotguns, we're going to town
Return to sender, Carried straight from the womb to the grave Your eyes have been paled to emptiness All things have been carved out by the unceasing haunts of this The Great Manipulator
The holding of our hands upwards and around the eclipsing sun Has become empty and automatic Sit down, Sit down, Come on sit down Let's break out the shotguns, we're going to town Let's break out the shotguns, we're going to town
You've given us user friendly grenades, Just what are you trying to say?
Just what are you trying to say? (8x)
The holding of our hands upwards and around the eclipsing sun Has become empty and automatic Sit down, Sit down, Come on sit down
