Tipper Bootsale and The New Nine-Tenths - Witches in the Jet Stream

I know there are Witches in the Jet Stream
Sailing on their black wings in the Dark

Except for Sundays, they make way for the Angels
Singing at the Strangers in the Park

I know I can guess what’s in that Locked Box
Even though the Box is open to the World

I know I overuse ellipses
Typing while I’m tipsy, dot…dot…dot…

Some days, I'm stuck on automatic
Drowning in the static that never stops

They're there, drying in the warm sun
Slippers for the beach-bums bare foot in the World

It seems sometimes the World's gone crazy
Up is down and clear is hazy
Love turns to hate when broken down
And lost is all we are when nothing's found

In the morning before the dark is gone
Little lights of hope turn on
Whispered the words we want to hear
Are carried on the wind, the Sun is near...

I know there are Witches in the Jet Stream
Sailing on their dark wings in the Black

Then they come down, and settle in the Stonefields
Busy with the stock yields, making stacks

I Dream of places where I know you -
Places we can go to - tasting all the World!

Written by:
BRUCE MCROBERTS

Publisher:
Lyrics © Songtrust Ave

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