[Chorus] Wired were the eyes of a horse on a jet pilot, One that smiled when he flew over the bay x2
My horse, is a shackled old man His, his remorse Was that he couldn't survey The skies, right before Right before, they went grey My horse, and my remorse Flying over a great bay
[Chorus]
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 grey My source and my remorse Flying over a great bay
[Chorus]
Where were the eyes of a horizontal jet pilot, One that smiled when he flew over the bay x2
[Chorus]
Where were the eyes of a horizontal jet pilot, When he smiled when he flew over the bay
