Just like birds of a feather, we too have followed the golden sun.
It feels so good, knowing the watchman's gone.
If I give you a rose, buddy, would you please bury it in the fields?
I seen a rose, watching it all fold out.

There's a train down at the station, it's come to carry my bones away.
Two engines on, twenty-one coaches long, end to end, twenty-one coaches bend.
The watchman's out kicking the bums about.

If I wait for the right moment, you can bet I'll climb aboard unseen.
I've done it before, I know I can do it in my sleep.
The watchman's out kicking the bums about. The watchman's out, kicking your dreams about.

As I leave you in the sunset, got one more nothing I'd like to say:
"You don't know me, a son of the sea am I."
As I say to you, my brother, if you live to follow the golden sun:
“You better beware, knowing the watchman's always there.”

If you find me feeding daisies, please turn my face up to the sky
and leave me be watching the moon roll by.
Whatever I was, you know it was all because I've been on the town washing the bullshit down.

The watchman's out kicking your dreams about.
It feels so good, knowing the watchman's gone.
It's like a song, knowing the watchman's gone.