Skeletons are moving underground,
There are angels on the sly,
God is busy turning a big wheel 'round and 'round.
Camels trudge across the desert sand with their humps of holy water,
They're looking for a home in the needle's eye,
See them fly.
We don't cry in Boomtown,
We go 'round,
Live and die in Boomtown,
'Round and 'round.
High rises reflect a gleaming spire,
It's another faithless Sunday,
God's still busy turning the big wheel 'round and 'round.
But we won't cry in Boomtown,
'Round and 'round,
Live and die in Boomtown,
Up and down.
The fire fell here a long time ago, but the glory could not last,
We still wear our veils through the dark afterglow and pray for some shadow of the past,
For a star leading home above the Savings and Loan.
Skeletons are moving underground,
Ghosts and angels on the sly,
God is busy turning a big wheel 'round and 'round.
