Flying Colours
Going away again
Gone to catch the next west-bound train
Wondering when he'll stop again
And who-all knows his real name
Been left again
Maybe not the way she was before
Hoping that someone will return again
Knowing she can't really pray for more
It was a south-bound call
And bad communication
That took a man standing tall
And a woman pining at the station
But what could we do
What could we do?
It wasn't taxes or the masses or
Censoring or pirating
It was just a south-bound call
And bad communication
A man standing tall
As he flew a bird to the nation
He faced the setting sun
And she faced it as it rose
And he faced the train tracks
And she faced the cold facts
He wanted to get away
She wanted his hand
Well I guess he got his way
And her wish flows with the sand
It was a south-bound call
And bad communication
That took a man standing tall
And a woman pining at the station
But what could we do
What could we do?
It wasn't taxes or the masses or
Judging or running
Just a south-bound call
And bad communication
Someone lost it all
But it must be just a tickling sensation




POST A COMMENT
Wanna say something? Make yourself heard!
We reserve the right to delete spam, flames, or other nasty stuff.