Tekst:
Bannerhill

It's the sunrise from the passenger seat window down, hanging out, take it all in. it's the first sight from somewhere we've never been it's not long

And the airplanes are mimicking stars again we're sitting below a confused sky we're sitting below this confused tangling fingers and cluttering thoughts

Racing to get back home, pull back the reins, break the bit, turn this course I've known lost upon a windy sea, a tiny rudder holds the key this caravel