|
I'll fly by the seat of my pants, |
|
no air fields I'll need or want to touch down on. |
|
I'd rather be traveling solo, |
|
no road is long enough for me to return by. |
|
Seaside, |
|
a sack full of shells for no lark. |
|
Inland |
|
a mouth full of dirt I grew up on. |
|
Upstream |
|
a drink that is freshest for no one. |
|
Below ground |
|
a darkness I'll keep to myself. |
|
I'll sink by the weight of my own shame, |
|
no harbour i'll score to weather the worst storms. |
|
I'd rather be suffering solo, |
|
no shoulder is wide enough for me to collapse in. |
|
Seaside, |
|
a sack full of shells for no lark. |
|
Inland, |
|
a mouth full of dirt I grew up on. |
|
Upstream, |
|
a drink that is freshest for no one. |
|
Below ground, |
|
a darkness I'll keep to myself. |
|
There's A darkness I'll keep to myself. |
|
There's A darkness I'll keep to myself. |
|
I'll fly by the seat of my pants. |
