Sunburned in London

Original

Sunburn in London, up from the colony.

Greet the old enemy with new energy. Haven't we met before? Ancient history.

In the Rose Garden, felt your hot heart and. . .

We are strangers, we will always be strangers.

Sunburn in Dublin, the queen is dead.

I see my brothers in the street, long live our friends. I see my mother in the hills if I squint hard enough.

I'm not the only one nostalgically fucked up.

And it's been raining for four hundred years here.

Sunburn in Tokyo, we were still strangers. Kissed by the turnstile, Shibuya Station.

I held you close as the lights smeared. Under the umbrella, your eyes were clear.

As through the autumn stream, smoke from the alley.

My sunstone, my sunlit dreams, and always strangers.

Sunburn in Oslo, glass towers gleaming.

In the brilliant views, expensive blues. In secret harbors, teens strum mischief.

But it gets harder when the midnight sun shines down, down on everyone.

It's our situation.

Sunburn in New York, city of the holy.

Touched down in Newark, dreaming started slowly.

Tony said, "Ever feel like you missed out on the ground floor?

" Say sweet nothing in endless bathrooms.

There are countries in the canyons, garbage marinating on the pavement. Trust fund babies make a great bid.

This must be the place.

Sunburn in Melbourne, arrived uninvited. Now we're inside, lock the door behind.

I'm at the bar, still talking 'bout the war.

Talk about old enemies, talk about new energy. Talk about property, talk about old history. Talk crossroad

Germany, talk midnight Sicily.

Talk caustic Calvary, talk past life revelry.

Talk about revolution, we talk about Melbourne, and Caroline springs eternal.

Sunburn in Tokyo, we were still strangers. Kissed by the turnstile, Shibuya

Station. I held you close as the lights smeared.

Under the umbrella, your eyes were clear.

As through the autumn stream, smoke from the alley.

My sunstone, my sunlit dreams, and always strangers.

We will never get the idea, my mind and your eyes on trial wrong.

Eyes on trial, your eyes on trial, your eyes on trial, your eyes on trial, your eyes on trial, your eyes on trial, your eyes on trial, your eyes on trial.

Winding back to the start, when the prey was in the park.

But the days keep coming strong, and the shadow's growing long.

Winding back to the start, when the rain was on the chart.

And the sun, it rises still on our outpost on the hill.