On the outskirts of expansion, looking out from Blueprint peak   The flow is flooding of urban settlers panning through rivers running dry.   Numbers roll on in, smiling a lottery grin, a sadness blurs the eye...   It's just a matter of time in they're moving on   It's just a matter of time before they're moving on   Doesn't take much time for plans to go wrong   and chase another ghost of a chance.   In the shadow of chain-store ghost towns   where no one walks the streets at night,   the silent nation hooked on medication,   stares into a blue flickering light.   the young drift off alone   and the old are whisked away   and prospects keep looking up,   but the line is getting long on the lost highway,   the line's getting longer on the lost highway   Doesn't take much time for plans to go astray   and chase another ghost of a chance      They say deep down inside, lie properties of a healing   kind,   If so it'd better come around soon   and do a little bit of service and repair   do a little bit of service and repair   do a little more service and repair   Doesn't take much time for plans to change   and offer up another chance   for a little bit more service and repair   do a little bit more service and repair   Doesn't take much time for plans to change   and offer up another chance   at sewing the dream better suited for both soul and   soil.