Tunng

The voices in your head have borrowed songs in from the night
The bullets in your head have lodged discretely out of sight
The broken sticks have found their way into your covered eye
The rabbits throat is open underneath the swollen sky
The serried ranks of bitter men have turned into the wind
The great machines are on their way the ships are rolling in
The ravens stand together deep in conversation and
A million tiny points of light surround you in the sinking sand
Sattelites grow weary and begin to dream aloud
Dark machines see clearly for the first time up to now
Just like magpies we collect a little bit of each
And head towards the place that's always slightly out of reach
Air in a softer key