I look backwards on the setting sun The warming colours touched the - heaven sung See truth shining through a cracking mould I was sold How the surface gleamed Reflection rays of hope How the surface gleamed Fell on fences that were picket black a warming whispered on wind held me back Deceived by blinding white textures of gold I was sold How the surface gleamed Reflecting rays of hope How the surface gleamed I look backwards on the setting sun now I don't run