103

I saw fuselage coming down on meSeparating life from limbA shower of aluminum, glass and bloodAll for some alien political disease103 103 103CrashburncrashburnIt's a bad dream I feared onceThat will recur for months or even yearsThe tightened fingers let the rats escapeA risk in this complex worldBut three hundred promises disappearedAnd brought us to sift this Scottish landRetaliation forever circlesMeanwhile a radio above explodes historySuffocation at 33 thou, the impact never heardThey're trying our patience, those crafty onesIt's a bad dream I feared onceThat will recur for months or even years