Boys and girls in cars
Dogs and birds on lawns
From here i can touch the sun yeah, yeah
Put your jackets on
I feel we're being born
The tropic of capricorn is below yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
We stall above the pole
Still your face is young
As we feel our weight return yeah, yeah
A trail of shootin' stars
The horses call the storm
Because the air contains the charge yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
The radio is on
And Houston knows the score
Can you feel it?
We're almost home yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
The crew compartment's breakin' up
The crew compartment's breakin' up
The crew compartment's breakin' up
The crew compartment's breakin' up
The crew compartment's breakin' up
The crew compartment's breakin' up
The crew compartment's breakin' up
The crew compartment's breakin' up
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