We
are birds on radar screens
We are lights in the sky
Pressing cover, only kissing the hills
Something more than a sigh, here we go
Such a sky where the radio beams
We are the wing and the prayer
Flying low and barely kissing the waves
Cut the cold aching air
We are the wing and the prayer Flying
low and barely kissing the waves
Ourselves,
5% of the solar system pulse
Adverse polarity,
none
Temperature,
25 degrees falling
Beacon computer, predicts, predicting the world
Not found that beacon yet, not yet
LN2, you got something new,
hell gate
I see the lights,
they sure run to me Taking me,
guiding me,
ho,
ho
I see the lights,
they sure run to me Taking me,
guiding me,
ho,
ho
I'm coming home
