It was a slow day. And the sun was beating. On the soldiers by the side of the road. There was a bright light. A shattering of shop windows. The bomb in the baby carriage. Was wired to the radio. These are the days of miracle and wonder. This is the long distance call. The way the camera follows us in slo-mo. The way we look to us all. The way we look to a distant constellation. That's dying in a corner of the sky. These are the days of miracle and wonder. And don't cry baby don't cry. Don't cry. It was a dry wind. And it swept across the desert. And it curled into the circle of birth. And the dead sand. Falling on the children. The mothers and the fathers. And the automatic earth. These are the days of miracle and wonder. This is the long distance call. The way the camera follows us in slo-mo. The way we look to us all. The way we look to a distant constellation. That's dying in a corner of the sky. These are the days of miracle and wonder. And don't cry baby don't cry. Don't cry. It's a turn-around jump shot. It's everybody jump start. It's every generation throws a hero up the pop charts. Medicine is magical and magical is art. The Boy in the Bubble. And the baby with the baboon heart. And I believe. These are the days of lasers in the jungle. Lasers in the jungle somewhere. Staccato signals of constant information. A loose affiliation of millionaires. And billionaires and baby. These are the days of miracle and wonder. This is the long distance call. The way the camera follows us in slo-mo. The way we look to us all. The way we look to a distant constellation. That's dying in a corner of the sky. These are the days of miracle and wonder. And don't cry baby don't cry. Don't cry