wired where the eyes of a horse on a jet pilot,
one that smiled when he flew over the bay,
wired where the eyes of a horse on a jet pilot,
one that smiled when he flew over the bay.
my horse is a shackled old man,
his, his remorse, was that he couldn't survey,
the skies, right before,
right before they went gray,
my horse and my remorse,
flying over a great bay
wired where the eyes of a horse on a jet pilot,
one that smiled when he flew over the bay,
wired where the eyes of a horse on a jet pilot,
one that smiled when he flew over the bay.
my, source, is the source of all creation,
her, discourse, is that we all don't survey
the skies, right before,
right before they go gray,
my source and my remorse,
flying over a great bay
wired where the eyes of a horse on a jet pilot,
one that smiled when he flew over the bay. (x7)