Bury everything you own

On a hill in Peckham Rye

Say a prayer for those you've known

As tracer fire scars the sky

heaven of abandoned stars
 [bad word] black and red

Fight your way through crowds and cars

As rockets flower overhead

Meet me in the dust cloud

As The Towers topple over ground

We can be ghosts now

We don't ever have to make a sound

Meet me in the white light

As the city slowly lifts away

We can be a ghost now

With the memory of another day

Meet me in the white light,

in the white light now