Album: The Sound of Pseudoscience
My eyes are terrorized by city lights below
My mind's too paralyzed to think the things I know
Two hours and I can't help feeling that
I'm just about a third-class jerk
32,000 feet above Suck City, tell me
What's the point of these young Turks?
I lack the vision that controls the things I see
I lost ambition to my thinking man's disease
Is it so hard to interrupt that cheap routine?
Is it uncivilized to split this fractured scene?
Two hours on an A320 and it's just about to get much worse
32,000 feet above Suck City, tell
What's the chance we're in reverse?
'Cause we're two hours from a drop-dead feeling
Like we're past the point of no return
32,000 feet above Suck City
'Til there's nothing left but crash and burn