One, two One, two, three, four Distorted frequencies locate her mood Impressive lingering of salt in her wound The sweet dependency they stole from you They answer back With no respect We're just movement in the dark Lonely fragments made of stars Mild interruptions in an endless fog Cosmic dust Pumping blood Scuff your sneakers they look better when they're worn Broken fingers never reach the chords And Jesus Christ, Tim, what's the matter? What's wrong? They're just songs And this should be fun We're just movements in the dark Lonely fragments made of stars Solar orphans in maternity wards Cosmic dust Just pumping blood September sixth, 1970 Was Jimi's last show in Germany 50 years of reflecting light Lonely aliens might hear him in the night They'd get stoned and he'd blow their minds