The match burns down
It nips your fingers
wakes you from the dream
of where you thought you were

Run, run, put your face right in it
as if the world could care

and sliding under
the wing to starboard
the moon goes up and down
on some city somewhere

your heart is jammed
the chamber’s loaded
silver bullets of joy or despair

you can trust in the power of music
you can trust in the power of prayer
but it’s only the white of your knuckles
that’s keeping this plane in the air

I’ve got scar tissue
i’ve got cash in hand
got a season ticket to the promised land

And i do this for a living, mister,
don’t you understand?
that I’m dancing, dancing, dancing as fast as I can.

and when you’re dry
they bring you brandy
the gates of sleep
you gotta push on through

who stands guard
while you’re dreaming
of blue skies, blue o’er blue?

you can trust in the power of music
you can trust in the power of prayer
but it’s only the white of your knuckles
that’s keeping this plane in the air

i’ve got scar tissue
i’ve got cash in hand
got a season ticket to the promised land

And i do this for a living, mister,
don’t you understand?
that I’m dancing, dancing, dancing as fast as I can.

— The Oysterband, “Dancing as Fast as I Can”

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