Paroles: Go Rydell. The Golden Age. Satellites.

I can taste the air and it?s obnoxious to my tongue
Where?s the summer that I once knew?
I want to feel like a new pair of shoes unscathed and not broken in
Because every day there is a new sun arising
I hate every fucking morning
I feel so robotic

My mechanics are flawed
Don?t you know I want to feel like a satellite and search the world with you?
You can try and shoot me down
Give it your best shot; I want your best shot
I am lost and I need some guidance
Come share the sky with me