Besedila: Cousteau. Other. Late September Rain.

Stranger than fiction
you're talking to me, child
it's late and I might stay a while
might look at all the maps
you've drawn around your face

no soul confession
no sacrifice
we run and we run
around our own devices
I overheard you dreaming
I overheard you lie...

now that won't come back again
'cos that won't ever be the same
all of this remains
in Late September Rain

still this beating silence
the things that it don't say
the wave is upon us
it's underway
we're running out of chances now
running down your street

no soul conviction
no sacrifice we run and we run
around our own devices
I overheard you dreaming
I overheard you lie...