Lyrics
In the stillness of the morning, on an ordinary day.
In a corner of creation, a trillion miles away.
No one even seems to notice, in the black flaxen sky.
no radio transmission, no countdown, no goodbye.
Father reads the morning paper,
Mothers' on the telephone,
Sisters' in the bathroom doing something,
I hear the radio, I'm staring at the ceiling,
lying in my bed,
wondering if Jesus should have kicked some ass instead.
History is written with ink that never dries,
some tears fall for sorrow, some tears fall for joy.
Is this the final destination, or is it just the ride,
I guess it all depends upon who's behind the eyes.
In a corner of creation, underneath my bed,
there's an itsy bitsy Spider,
cozy in her web,
she's sending off her babies, to live their little lives, no radio transmission, no countdown, no goodbye, no goodbye.
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