After the rain, a killer crane. After a rainbow. Across the sky, her gracious glide. Across the sea Across creation and over time. Her gracious life escapes its station. A cold wind blows, the
Sitting up on our crane. It always feels the same when we're up high,. 'Cause I feel like I'll fall and die. And I can't say goodbye to my friends,. 'Cause they're havin' a real good time
Gotta get out of TV. Just pick a point and go. The ticker-tape tangles my feet. As I search for a face that I know. Come on, tower crane driver. There's not so far to go I must have been working
Third-Class ticket in his pocket. Punching out the shadows underneath the sockets. Tweed coat turned up against the fog Slow coaches rolling o'er the moor. Between the very memory. And approaches