On the outskirts of expansion, looking out from Blueprint peak
The flow is flooding of urban settlers panning through rivers running dry
Numbers roll on in, smiling a lottery grin, a sadness blurs the eye
It's just a matter of time in they're moving on
It's just a matter of time before they're moving on
Doesn't take much time for plans to go wrong
and chase another ghost of a chance
In the shadow of chain-store ghost towns
where no one walks the streets at night,
the silent nation hooked on medication,
stares into a blue flickering light
the young drift off alone
and the old are whisked away
and prospects keep looking up,
but the line is getting long on the lost highway,
the line's getting longer on the lost highway
Doesn't take much time for plans to go astray
and chase another ghost of a chance

They say deep down inside, lie properties of a healing
kind,
If so it'd better come around soon
and do a little bit of service and repair
do a little bit of service and repair
do a little more service and repair
Doesn't take much time for plans to change
and offer up another chance
for a little bit more service and repair
do a little bit more service and repair
Doesn't take much time for plans to change
and offer up another chance
at sewing the dream better suited for both soul and
soil