i haven't flown in my dreams
since i was at least eleven
so now i sleep when i fly
just to get even
i drive with no lights on
whenever there's a full moon
and tend to sing along with the radio on
when i don't know the tune
i got one hand on the wheel
one's holding my coffee
and am still holding the phone talking to you
hope to remain so severely talented for another mile or two
i'm doing it now
in case he's looking down on me
when i was a child
my daddy taught me how to steer with my knee
since he left this world it hasn't felt right
all the endless hours appear so finite
here in the shadow
of an old dead volcano
you could almost smell it
when the sulfur used to wreak
havoc in the hammock
swaying below picacho peak
(.. . all together now)
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