Tekst
A rainbow tour bus winds upwards through a scenic turf war
If your kinetosis doesn't get you first, the white guilt will will will
The view from broken bottle make out spots is panoramic
If nostalgia hasn't slit my wrists this premonition will will will
Volcanic dirt stains feet and won't wash out of clothing this is
where your ashes should be strewn instead of some cold mainland suburb
I'd say hello if I remembered how to find your headstone
If Tantalus can't save us then a vigil never will will will will
The motor coach floats upwards
Then it's gone completely
Tantalus, Tantalus, we are tourists on a bus
Now the skies are watching us
Tantalus, Tantalus, we are tourists on a bus
Now the skies are watching us
Tantalus, Tantalus, we are tourists on a bus
Now the skies are watching us
Tantalus, Tantalus, we are tourists on a bus
Now the skies are watching us
Tantalus, Tantalus, we are tourists on a bus
Now the skies are watching us
