I'd like to think you can't leave me here
But every
Dark hair framed your Irish smile
The lights of Dublin in
Well I’m flying
See those scabs upon the land
You see I’ve
You've been feeling like an axle
On a car that you
Here she comes again, ravens call it from the trees
Car
In a town like this idle words turn black
Twist and
I see you standing there
With your dark hair falling around
Holding
You put your hand through the skin of my arm
And
Mother looks so torn, why can't she see?
Things are back
They roll sidewalk here at nine
Tuck it under their arm
So
Old friend the door was always open
The darkest moment right
Through the week he sits looking out across the field
With
There's plenty of switchblade traitors here
Slight of hand can fool
There's a point you're told is close enough
like a camera
Indian Pacific on a dead straight track
Indian Pacific on a
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