Lucy, where are you now? [x3] Are you hiding? Born in the fire, babe. Poetry on our graves. I forgot so many names, but I'm trying. I think it's time to go, the bartender's leaning slow and maybe he doesn't know that you're blinding. I need a night alone. The wind through the trees alone. But as if the glass alone, slow and shining. Lucy, where are you now? [x3] Are you hiding?