flying north

metal bird dip wing of fire, whose airlanes comb dark earth, the poles are tethers we were born in, on the brink of a whole new deal, on the floor of a pan am bar, i'm staring right into the light, and i'm drawn in like a moth, and i'm flying north again. here come the men in suits, papers waving in the runway glare, lincoln steaming in the chilly air of the morning, at the end of a double day, at the back of an airport lounge, i'm staring down into the cold, and i'm worn out like a cloth, and i'm flying north again.tonight, down with the landing gear, up goes the useless prayer, the poles are tethers we were born in, now i'm back in the london night, on a bench in a launderette, i'm staring right into my face, and i'm drawn out like a plot, and i'm flying north again.tonight