I been fightin' gravity since I was two.
Questers of the prize blind men int he snow. Some streak the skies I choose to go below.
Skin moves towards malignant worshipping the sun. They clamber over corpses to be the chosen ones.
Drift along liquid sky.
Descending through the darkness to the vast terrain. Down here on the bottom you rarely hear the rain.
Drift along liquid sky.