Turn It Back, Boy

Gentle, pulsing organ intro

The boy counts bricks.

Red and cold.

Twenty-four in a row.

He wears his father’s coat.

It smells of old coins, very old.

The sleeves hide his hands.

He waits for the bell.

The iron gate is locked.

(Always locked)

Where did the morning go?

(Where did it go?)

The clock has no mercy.

We grow tall and gray.

(So gray)

Walking in straight lines.

Looking for a dial.

To turn the world back.

(Turn

The kitchen is quiet.

Breakfast goes cold, very cold.

The radio talks to itself.

About wars in the sand.

(Far away)

I reach for your hand.

But the table is wide.

The wood feels like ice.

(Cold ice)

Where did the morning go?

(Where did it go?)

The clock has no mercy.

We grow tall and gray, very gray

Walking in straight lines.

Looking for a dial.

To turn the world back.

(Turn it back, boy)

(Turn it back, boy)

Guitar solo

He finds a glass marble.

Deep in his pocket, very deep.

He holds it to the light.

The sky looks distorted.

Bent and strange.

(So strange)

A plane draws a line.

Cutting the clouds in two.

Nobody looks up.

(No one)

Where did the morning go?

(Where did it go?)

The clock has no mercy.

We grow tall and gray.

(So gray)

Walking in straight lines.

Looking for a dial.

To turn the world back.

(Turn it back, boy)

Just turn it back.

(Turn it back, boy)

The boy counts bricks.

Red and cold.

One...

Two...

Three...

Final lingering piano chord