Ready, I'll go first.
Flying below the radar inches above the trees
A new sense of direction and shot my wingman in the head.
The smell of solitude rises with the morning sun,
We are never lost, just need to be noticed.
The light fades into the horizon with the songs of the blue bird.
Lacking the color of life, skies turn to gray.
We are the invisible come and go hardly noticed.
Trust in my hand I'll trust in yours.
A new sense of direction and shot my wingman in the head.
The smell of solitude rises with the morning sun,
We are never lost, just need to be noticed.
The light fades into the horizon with the songs of the blue bird.
Lacking the color of life, skies turn to gray.
We are the invisible come and go hardly noticed.
Trust in my hand I'll trust in yours.