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The rainbow is empty
And the lights hang low

There is a private eye
In the centre of it all

Driving down Sunset Boulevard
Looking, looking for the song

The starman has gone
And lately Leonard Cohen too

There are thieves in the temple
Pretenders from thrones underground

And who really cares anymore
We all chase the wind

Give up your ghosts
Bring out your dead

The church of Jesus Christ
And latter-days saints

Bright young americans
There is one, one on every corner

The holy books are open wide
But the future is murder

Dead birds fall from the sky
Black jackals crawling

Give up your ghosts
Bring out your dead

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