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 heart but I'll scorn 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.
|
Switch to English 
