I'll fly by the seat of my pants,
no air fields I'll need or want to touch down on.
I'd rather be traveling solo,
no road is long enough for me to return by.

Sea side,
a sack full of shells for no love.
In line [?]
a pack full of dirt I grew up on.
Up stream
a drink that is freshest for no one.
Below ground
a darkness I'll keep to myself.

I'll sink by the wait of my own shade,
no heart but I'll scorn to weather the worst now. [?]
I'd rather be suffering solo,
no shoulder wide enough for me to collapse in.

Sea side,
a sack full of shells for no love.
In line,
a pack full of dirt I grew up on.
Up stream,
a drink that is freshest for no one.
Below ground,
a darkness I'll keep to myself.

A darkness I'll keep to myself.
A darkness I'll keep to myself.

I'll fly by the seat of my pants.