(J. FergusonSloan)



Well you've got your bags together

And you're off into the new world

The mother is impatient

With four sons

She wanted four girls

The father's wrapped in memories

Of European relations

Counting flurries on the window

As he dials another station

Coming home



It's black upon black

He's still cutting the track

Old Ireland's heart

May still call him back

At the edge of the scene

The old glasses were round

The siren is heard

It's the cue for his sound



Alright

Well alright



As sovereign of all

He's likely second to none

Well, the change is complex

And it's only take one

At the edge of the scene

He's revered by the most

Not just under our feet

But from here to the coast



Alright

Well alright



The ties that are loose

Are the ones that he binds

If we wander off track

Well, he'll keep us aligned

At the edge of the scene

Not unlike in D.C.

It's the sound from down there

Years ago set him free



Alright

Well alright



My story is tame

No its not very wild

Expectations were debated

For this only child

At the end of the scene

When our secret's revealed

You know it's my life

And it's the way that I feel



Alright

Well alright



When you're miles above Pacific Ocean waters without angel's

Wings will help with getting closer

When my headphone chord untangles

Oh pilot, can you hear me

Our destination beckons

Counting raindrops on the windshield

Yet skies are clear he reckons

For tonight



Y