Quote:
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Originally Posted by Halfcan
Stratospheric traces of our transitory flight
Trails of condensation held
In narrow bands of white
The sun is turning black
The world is turning gray
All the stars fade from the night
The oceans drain away
Horizon to Horizon
memory written of the wind
Fading away like an hourglass, grain by grain
Swept away like voices in a hurricane
In a Vapor Trail
Atmospheric phases make the transitory last
Vaporize the memories that freeze the fading past
Silence all the songbirds
Stilled by the killing frost
Forest burn to ashes
Everything is lost
Washed away like footprints in the rain
In a Vapor Trail
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Jack, relax. Get busy with the facts
No zodiacs, or almanacs
No maniacs in polyester slacks
Just the FAX (facts)
Gonna kick some gluteus max
It's a parralax ya dig
It's all jet big it's a rig
It's action, reaction, random interaction
So who's afraid of a little abstraction
Can't get no satisfaction from the facts
Ya better run homeboy
Facts are facts from Nome to Rome boy
What's the deal?
Spin the wheel
If the dice are hot, take a shot
Play your cards, show us what ya got
What your holdin
If the cards are cold don't go folden
Lady Luck is golden
She favors the bold, that's cold
The night starts playin saxophones
So get out there and rock, and roll the bones.
Get busy