In the strings between the cans
But no prints can come from fingers
If machines become our hands

And then our feet become the wheels
And then the wheels become the cars
And then the rigs begin to drill
Until the drilling goes too far

Things can go bad
And make you wanna run away
But as we grow older
Horizon begins to fade, fade, fade, fade away

Thingamajigsaw puzzled
And anger don't you step too close
'Cause people are lonely
And only animals with fancy shoes

And Hallelujahs exact nothing
And misery it's on the loose
'Cause people are lonely
And only animals with too many tools

That can build all the junk that we sell
Aw sometimes man make you wanna yell

That things can go bad
And make you wanna run away
But as we grow older
Horizon begins to fade away, fade away

Fade, fade, fade
Fade, fade, fade