Beck - Don't be light

Don't be light, don't be light oh Wild life, the grey surprises of our days, Singing in caves, fabricating a new abandon, We don't see the master's hand, We bang on gold tambourines, In the crosshairs of some transient gun, Trading desires on the banquet line. La la la la la la La la la la la la La la la la la la La la la la la la