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We all want to feel like we have a purpose We're all just numbers in the end we're time traveling Turn the lights off Turn the lights off, where do we go from here? Winter comes round' the bend When you're not plannin' our escape September is such a trend when the leaves fall red We bow our heads to the dead, we bow our heads A funeral for a good friend, to the dead (un funerale per un buon amico, per i morte) You still swim around in the sound, The Long Island Sound I can still see you swimming around You'll never let me drown In the sound, you swim around When the whistle blows, you know it's time to go From Letras Mania