Lyrics

Dreams in Technicolor have faded Prepare to make a stand The odds are long And there is no mention Of a favored to win Made it out of the hairpin turn The acetone angels asking why Caught in cubicles and elevators Always checking the watch for suicide We've lost communication We're out on our own We've lost communication We're out on our own Where fools wouldn't go Faraway stones skipping over this time A willful dance in their wake Bitter laughs for chances passed over And flaming drink salesman on the make Would tell you I cared and then some But then I'd find you gone The circus spits out hearts and minds Sure as steam rises from a nuclear drum We've lost communication We're out on our own We've lost communication We're out on our own Where fools wouldn't go Where fools wouldn't go Where fools wouldn't go