[Intro – Muted trumpet solo, vinyl crackle, resonator slide guitar, slow heavy swing] [Verse 1 – gravelly Tom Waits-like voice, low and ominous] Instead of warmth — the green of glass, Instead of fire — smoke, A day is ripped from the calendar's grid. The red sun burns down to ash, The day burns out with it, On the blazing city a shadow falls. [Chorus – growling voice with Louis Armstrong scat responses] Our hearts demand changes, Our eyes demand changes, In our laughter, in our tears, and in the pulsing of our veins — Changes! We are waiting for changes! [Verse 2 – more broken, almost spoken word with Waits-like percussive breaths] Electric light prolongs our day, And the matchbox is empty, But on the kitchen stove a blue flower of gas burns. Cigarettes in hand, tea on the table — this scheme is simple. And there is nothing more — everything is inside us. [Bridge – Louis Armstrong style scat singing (nonsense syllables) over muted trumpet and clarinet, uplifting but eerie] Ba-ba-da-ba-doo-wop... oh, yeah... (instrumental break with trumpet and scat) [Verse 3 – deep, soul-crushing Tom Waits voice, very slow] We cannot boast of the wisdom in our eyes Or the skillful gestures of our hands, We don't need any of that to understand each other. Cigarettes in hand, tea on the table — thus the circle closes. And suddenly we grow afraid to change a thing. [Chorus – maximal intensity, growling and scat layered, like a voodoo ritual] Our hearts demand changes, Our eyes demand changes, In our laughter, in our tears, and in the pulsing of our veins — Changes! We are waiting for changes! [Outro – trumpet fades into gramophone crackle, haunting female backing harmonies humming the melody, then silence]
