Gavin Castleton - Terminals lyrics

While the Islanders run savage from the sticky coffee sun my seeds are at a closing - we see different heavens and I'm a traveler in this place - my hands manufactured to match my luggage will you be a comrade? Quiet that little boy, could you? Show him the air strip, wow him to d**h. There are too many tickets too many tickets left. In the office they're counting moving tickets on the monitor and shuffling envelopes to the drums of my d**h march I'm a soldier bloodied on the runway treading gra** and checking my back exiting in a blur of terror and hope. The walkway is now ending please look down the walkway is now ending please look down look down look down look down