A score of years this line has run. Above the crests that drown the sun. A mile high the turbines turned. The stokers sweat the monkeys burned. I will carry you home with the gods in my eyes. I
A score of years this line has run. Above the crests that drown the sun. A mile high the turbines turned. The stokers sweat the monkeys burned. I will carry you home with the gods in my eyes. I