3 p.m. Blue as a road sign,   With a gag and some cheap wine   Sun's in my eyes between   The smoke trails of aircraft,   The kite tails and light shafts   There's a language in the sky   There are bones   Hiding under the viaduct   Sweeping down by the railway line   Making wagers with the day   There's a rumour   Dirty as a chimneystack   Quiet as roadkill   On the northbound carriageway      And who's gonna raise a hand   When all we were taught to do is dance   Who'll be able to stand after this avalanche      Well, they sold you   Back your outrage   In a neat little shrink wrap   And a beautiful face and you think   You've found your purpose   Well, they've been trailing the breadcrumbs   Of a water-tight case   So you're shouting   You're shouting softly   So no one can hear you   And get the wrong idea   But behind   The closing eye of the tabloids   We will be waiting   And we'll say it clearly      'Cause who's gonna raise a hand   When all we were taught to do is dance   Who'll be able to stand after this avalanche      3 p.m. Blue as a road sign,   With a gag and some cheap wine   Sun's in my eyes between   The smoke trails of aircraft,   The kite tails and light shafts   There's a language in the sky   There's a language in the sky   There's a language in the sky