Here in this desert, beneath the sun and stars

Still troubled by the rumblings of a million distant cars

Please be good to me tonight, let me find my way

The air has some command in it I cannot disobey

A gunfight in Dodge City, a murder in Bombay

All these deeds and worldly needs I must shrug off today

All my life spent searching for prowess

Left me lying here with you, tristesse

I was working in an orchard that grew the strangest fruit

It wasn't Mother Nature that made those trees take root

Your children cannot hear you, they only want your loot

You hold on to their essence like a parachute

They never believed you were in distress

Now you've gone and left them with tristesse

Oh, waters inflamed

Ah, fires burning out

Ah, ice melting down

Ah, fires burnt out

A hotel suite in a rich man's town, a hut in Botany Bay

A prisoner by my own device, a mountain in my way

I'm gonna have to alter my address

"Cause I can't stay much longer with tristesse

And they call this carnival progress

Invited by our queen tonight, tristesse

Our instruments have no way of measuring this feeling

Can never cut below the floor, or penetrate the ceiling

In the space between our houses, some bones have been discovered

But our procession lurches on, as if we have recovered

Draconian winter unforetold

One solar day, suddenly you're old

Your little envelope just makes me cold

Makes destination start to unfold

Our documents are useless, or forged beyond believing

Page forty-seven is unsigned, I need it by this evening

In the space between our cities, a storm is slowly forming

Something eating up our days, I feel it every morning

Destination… destination

It's not a religion, it's just a technique

It's just a way of making you speak

Distance and speed have left us too weak

Our destination looks kind of bleak

Our elements are burned out, our beasts have been mistreated

I tell you it's the only way we'll get this road completed

In the space between our bodies, the air has grown small fingers

Just one caress, you're powerless, like all those clapped-out swingers

Destination... destination