Great big love Sweeping across the sky Evening sun slants across the road Painting everything with gold I'm headed for home, got a woman there I can barely wait to hold Got wind in my hair, got the heat inside Heart jumping up and down An empty head and

Wheat kings and pretty things Sundown in the Paris of the prairies Wheat kings have all their treasures buried And all you hear are the rusty breezes Pushing around the weather vane Jesus In his Zippo lighter, he sees the killer's face Maybe it's someone

Yeah when that summer sun starts to beatin' down And you don't know what to do Inflatable pool full of dad's hot air I was three years old Splashin' everywhere And so began my love affair With all my friends

Goin' back to Dallas, livin' in the palace of the king Oh, living in the palace of the king Living in the palace Be a natural thing was born down in Dallas, raised up on the city of wind Spent a month of Sundays, talkin' about the places I have been

Hm you're my baby And your sweet sweet sun makes me crazy I want to lay you down and see how you amaze me You push me up to the inglorious shadows of a craving And if we fall we blow up like exponential assembly I never thought that some training can

Another bride, another June Another sunny honeymoon Another season, another reason For makin' whoopee A lot of shoes, a lot of rice The groom is nervous, he answers twice Its really killin' That he's so willin' to make whoopee Now picture a little love

O-lo-e-o-lo-lo The sun's gonna shine on me And all the people go Tell all the people go Let my hands go free And there's nowhere I'd rather be (rather be) On the day all the hands go free (hands go free) All the people go

And we're dancing on our own, tonight Dancing on our own We are the lives beneath the setting sun We are the hearts that beat We are the fallen ones who've gotten up We are the light so bright We can paint the sky tonight While the whole world's stuck in

Goin' back to Dallas, livin' in the palace of the king Oh, living in the palace of the king Living in the palace Be a natural thing was born down in Dallas, raised up on the city of wind Spent a month of Sundays, talkin' about the places I have been

Nearer, my God, to thee, nearer to thee! Nearer, my God, to thee; Still all my song shall be, E'en though it be a cross that raiseth me, Though like the wanderer, the sun gone down, Darkness be over me, my rest a stone; Yet in my dreams I'd be There let