(music/lyrics--scott engel) ©1993 international media holdings (bmi)



There's no hold

The moving has come through

The danger brushing you

Turns its face into the heat

And runs the tunnel



It's so cold

The dark dug up by dogs

The stitches torn and broke

The raw meat fist you choke

Has hit the bloodlite



Glass traps open and close on nite flights

Broken necks, featherweights press the walls

Be my love, we can be gods on nite flights

With only one promise, only one way to fall



On the nite flights, only one way to fall


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