Turn it Round

Turn it round.

The carnival is all...crushed.

Under the feet of rain.

Lost in Fayetteville

The pay phone rings,

nobody around to listen.

Stuck under a cloud,

The cross is weeping,

The houses below watching.

Lost in this town,

A ways off of Sixth.

If you listen hard,

You can hear the cannonball

hurling down the tracks.

Deluge in the hidden streets,

all with a coat.

Turn around, turn around,

Don't go that way.

Don't go back into where

the hearts die,

Lost in the dim streets.

Lost in Fayetteville,

If you find another lost,

just run away.

Never look back,

never turn around.

You'll just find a puddle

staring back.