(Music/Lyrics--Scott Engel) ©1993 International Media Holdings (BMI)
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There's no hold
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The moving has come through
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The danger brushing you
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turns its face into the heat
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and runs the tunnel
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It's so cold
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The dark dug up by dogs
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The stitches torn and broke
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The raw meat fist you choke
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has hit the bloodlite
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Glass traps open and close on nite flights
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Broken necks, featherweights press the walls
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Be my love, we can be gods on nite flights
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With only one promise, only one way to fall
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On the nite flights, only one way to fall
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Nite Flights
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| The Fatima Mansions |
