(Back down to earth, back down to earth) On our way back down to earth So it's up to you and it's up to me That we meet in the middle Down to earth, down to earth I never thought that it'd be easy 'Cause we both so distant now And the walls are closing

Go Johnny go go Johnny B. Goode Go go go Johnny go Deep down in Louisiana close to New Orleans Way back up in the woods among the evergreens There stood a log cabin made of earth and wood Where lived a country boy named Johnny B. Goode Who never ever

We're leaving together, But still it's farewell And maybe we'll come back, To earth, who can tell? I guess there is no one to blame We're leaving ground Will things ever be the same again? It's the final countdown, We're heading for Venus and still we

When, my, time comes around Lay me gently in the cold dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her Boys workin' on empty Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat? I just think about my baby I'm so full of love I could barely eat

Sent to kill, to watch no man's land Snipers are moving unseen Fight for land, to lose it again Shrapnel is filling the air Hell on earth, the trenches mean death, better keep your head down low Charge their lines, the ultimate test it's a synchronized

Going back to (find myself) (Find myself) Going back to, going back Zippin' up my boots Goin' back to my roots To the place of my birth Back down to earth Not talkin' about the roots in land I'm talking 'bout the roots in men

The final countdown It's the final countdown (The final countdown) We're leaving together But still it's farewell And maybe we'll come back To earth, who can tell? I guess there is no one to blame

You can do what you want as long As the curtain is high and strong We should be like this all the time For the Earth, one day will die Now that all these walls are down Wonder what I'll tell you Count the number of things you are See how long it takes you

When the sky is gray And the moon is hate I'll be down to get you. Roots of earth will shake. Sinister purpose Knockin' at your door; Come and take my hand.

Go go. Go Johnny go Johnny B. Goode Deep down in Louisiana close to New Orleans Way back up in the woods amongst the evergreens There stood an old cabin made of earth and wood Where lived a country boy named Johnny B. Goode That never ever learned to