Fly
KEN JOHNSON, LISA TORRES
Uneasy is this soul that breathes
This stale air is probably killing me
No wind has stirred these trees since I don't know when
I hope I fly before I'm in the dirt
Oh God lay your hands upon me
Oh help me believe in something more than here
desperate arms in desperate need
for something, for anything
for a spaceship to come down and blow us all away
I hope I fly before I'm in the dirt
Oh God lay your hands upon me
Oh help me believe in something more
Oh help me believe in something more
So I can feel