Fallen angel in the crowd
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Drags her heels over the noise
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Lays down at the roadside of regard
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A canyon in my broken mind
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Echos deep inside the vale
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There's dustcarts for the dead birds in the trees
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Trans-atlantic shooting stars over mainline
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Here they come suburban gods
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To bless desire
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Heaven hopes you find her here
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The raincatchers
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The devils blades
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There's karma for the misfits of our times
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Take this really you take my soul
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Take me down when you laugh I fall
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All this pity has broken me
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But my survival lies with me
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I'm going to love you as best as I can
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I'm going to hold you close when I tremble
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I'm going to love you as best as I can
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I'm going to see you rise
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I won't ever let you fall out of my senses
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Fall out of my own hands
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No I won't ever let you let you
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Will I find my way home?
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-----------------
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Transatlantic Shooting Stars
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| Ben Christophers |
