(J. Ferguson/Sloan) 



Well you've got your bags together 

And you're off into the new world 

The mother is impatient 

With four sons 

She wanted four girls 

The father's wrapped in memories 

Of European relations 

Counting flurries on the window 

As he dials another station 

Coming home 



It's black upon black 

He's still cutting the track 

Old Ireland's heart 

May still call him back 

At the edge of the scene 

The old glasses were round 

The siren is heard 

It's the cue for his sound 



Alright 

Well alright 



As sovereign of all 

He's likely second to none 

Well, the change is complex 

And it's only take one 

At the edge of the scene 

He's revered by the most 

Not just under our feet 

But from here to the coast 



Alright 

Well alright 



The ties that are loose 

Are the ones that he binds 

If we wander off track 

Well, he'll keep us aligned 

At the edge of the scene 

Not unlike in D.C. 

It's the sound from down there 

Years ago set him free 



Alright 

Well alright 



My story is tame 

No its not very wild 

Expectations were debated 

For this only child 

At the end of the scene 

When our secret's revealed 

You know it's my life 

And it's the way that I feel 



Alright 

Well alright 



When you're miles above Pacific Ocean waters without angel's 

Wings will help with getting closer 

When my headphone chord untangles 

Oh pilot, can you hear me 

Our destination beckons 

Counting raindrops on the windshield 

Yet skies are clear he reckons 

For tonight 



Yeah...