Torn between a hand grenade and a stick of dynamite

Just another choice to be made will it ever turn out right

Walking through the desert with a canteen and a pen

I hear a voice in the wind calling my name again

And it keeps pulling me back towards the sun

Falling through the cracks in the boardwalk out by the riverside

Puttin' my coins in a slot machine that always comes up dry

And it keeps pulling me back towards the sun

Back to the apple trees and the sounds of the falling leaves

Back to the earthworms and the blisters from all the burns

Back to the kangaroos and the smell of that vegetable stew

Back to the stars above and the kisses from the ones you love...

Sharpen up my senses to the presence of a hummingbird

No one else can find the joy in something so absurd

And it keeps pulling me back towards the sun

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