The Church - Cobalt Blue

Desert wind in a telephone box Dial my numbers up Picks my locks Picks his kind To go and mingle in my mind Here I am on the edge of every town You read my fortunes up You lead it down Lead me to land Let it run right through my hand And its nothing Nothing you could know Let it go Nothing really that you could know Motel bar, the dirty sulky moon Turn my head up Let it all cocoon Let it go Nothing really we could know And its nothing Nothing you could know Let it go Nothing really that you could know