Путь к вершине
Фотогалерея
Тексты песен
Инфа про СиСтЕмУ
Табы
Музон!
Опросы
Размышления
Полезные ссылки
Обмен ссылками
Гостевая
Об авторе
О проекте
[Chorus]
Wired were the eyes of a horse on a jet pilot,
One that smiled when he flew over the bay
x2
My horse, is a shackled old man
His, his remorse
Was that he couldn't survey
The skies, right before
Right before, they went grey
My horse, and my remorse
Flying over a great bay
[Chorus]
My source, is the source of all creation
Her, discourse, is that we all don't survey
The skies, right before
Right before, they go grey
My source and my remorse
Flying over a great bay
[Chorus]
Where were the eyes of a horizontal jet pilot,
One that smiled when he flew over the bay
x2
[Chorus]
Where were the eyes of a horizontal jet pilot,
When he smiled when he flew over the bay
x2
