Midnight sun

His organ sounds like clouds brushing against the moon on an ice crusted midnight,
But everything it hurts every thing it hurts everything it hurts everything it hurts,
His synthesizer sails galactic landscapes, from New York to ancient Rome in an hour
But everything it hurts every thing it hurts everything it hurts everything it hurts,
His voice softens the squall of deaths imminence of when he sings oh it rains tropical colors
But everything it hurts every thing it hurts everything it hurts everything it hurts
But when I hear that music all the world is holy and it s good
hey hey he--y, and no one sings the sanitary blues
His harps hover like moths in the atmosphere I feel like rushing through tall grasslands.
But everything it hurts every thing it hurts everything it hurts everything it hurts
His boom box blares classics never written, the songs singers never had time to make up,
But everything it hurts every thing