A Matter Of Simple Deduction

I was walking alone in an unfamiliar town when the

buildings started to shiver and shake.

Shimmering rain came down in sheets

and then glittered like glass on the empty streets.

I could see your face in the wind;

I could hear the orchestral storm begin to sing:

"It's the end, it's the goddamn end!

Come on, baby, light that fire!"

It's a matter of simple deduction.

It's a matter of complete control.

You can hold hands with the man in the tower,

but you just can't guarantee a place for your soul.

So there I was, right? Stuck in the street.

Not a soul for miles, on my own two feet.

Glittering glass, piles of trash,

stuttering into the w-w-wind.

I could see your face in the air,

I could taste your skin on my lips.

But this is the end, this is the END!

Come on, baby, light that fire!