I think I smell the sunset  Think I feel the close of day  Clean shaven correspondents  Are all crowded at the gate  Smell the oil from their torches  Their voices growing more irate  Sheperd's staves are crooked  Leading every crooked way  All the sheep lock their doors  Yeah, they're pulling down their shades  The faithful looking in their mirrors  The faithful growing old and gray  But I look at you  Your eyes are clear and bright  I see your face  It's an amazing sight  Your glory Lord  Is still a burning light  The light that all our faithless hands  Could never dim  Think I smell the sunset  Think I smell the death of day  People laughing at a funeral  People dancing at a wake  All the seasons blend together  This bird's losing feathers everyday  But I look at you  Your eyes are clear and bright  I see your face  It's an amazing sight  Your glory Lord  Is still a burning light  The light that all our faithless hands  Could never dim  And everybody's tired and scared  And begging unbelief  But you have yet to break a sweat  You're not afraid  You're not afraid  I think I smell the sunset  Think I feel the close of day  Sheperd's staves are crooked  Leading every crooked way  People laughing at a funeral  People dancing at a wake