On the outskirts of expansion, looking out from Blueprint peak

The flow is flooding of urban setters panning through rivers running dry.

Numbers roll on in, smiling a lottery grin, a sadness blurs the eye...

It's just a matter of time before they're moving on

It's just a matter of time before they're moving on

Doesn't take much time for plans to go wrong

and chase another ghost of a chance.

In the shadows of chain-store ghost towns

where no one walks the streets at night,

a silent nation hooked on medication,

stares into a blue flickering light.

the young drift off alone

and the old are whisked away

and prospects keep looking up,

but the line's getting longer on the lost highway,

the line's getting longer on the superstition highway

Doesn't take much time for plans to go astray

and chase another ghost of a chance

They say deep down inside, lie properties of a healing

kind,



If so it'd better come around soon

and do a little bit of service and repair

do a little bit of service and repair

do a little more service and repair

Doesn't take much time for plans to change

and offer up another chance

for a little bit more service and repair

do a little bit of service and repair

Doesn't take much time for plans to change

and offer up another chance

at sewing the dream better suited for both soul and

soil