Airbone

We’re airborne, baby

through the words, sharp corners around pylon teeth.

Round that nervous bend in your brow.

Airborne baby, that’s where we are.

Highways are made of dust and colour.

Speed faster, babe,

blur the signs together.

Speed past burning trees,

miss the turn-off.

On the highway

On the highway

This is  higher than we’ve ever been.

We’d never get paid for this;

Talk is cheap

Paper is expensive.

Down the highway,

Down the highway, baby,

we’re flying.

If you fall I won’t catch you.

Love isn’t real unless your ass hits the ground.

Fall for me baby,

fall for me.

We got matches

and water.

And our heads.

We’re airborne baby, its where we are.

Not where we’ll stay.

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