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Metal bird dip wing of fire |
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Whose airlanes comb dark Earth |
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The poles are tethers we were born in |
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On the brink of a whole new deal |
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On the floor of a Pan Am bar |
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I'm staring right into the light |
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And I'm drawn in like a moth |
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And I'm flying North again... |
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Here come the men in suits |
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Papers waving in the runway glare |
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Lincoln steaming in the chilly air of the morning |
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At the end of a double day |
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At the back of an airport lounge |
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I'm staring down into the cold |
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And I'm worn out like a cloth |
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And I'm flying North again...tonight |
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Down with the landing gear |
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Up goes the useless prayer |
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The poles are tethers we were born in |
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Now I'm back in the London night |
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On a bench in a launderette |
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I'm staring right into my face |
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And I'm drawn out like a plot |
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And I'm flying North again...tonight |
