Open Arms, Empty Air

listening to my thoughts talk in strange affected accents
 done waiting for my youth to get me by
 looking for that cloud of rain to burst with sound and vision rage
 open arms, empty air
 open arms, empty airs
 pardon me I make my way
 got to get out
 to the observation deck I go staring down
 pardon me I slip away
 I'm going overboard
 will I fall to heaven or to the ocean's floor
 listening to my thoughts talk soft and gray and delicate
 done waiting for the useless march of time
 looking for a sweet release to end it lightning quick
 open arms, empty air
 open arms, empty airs
 hurriedly I take my leave
 I have no reason
 to hang about this rusted wreck
 I know how this will end
 don't mind me I always lean this far against the rails
 find some joy in guessing when my balance fails
 soaring over the brittle earth
 roaring over forests of branches bare
 overfilled with primal drive
 we are the streamline
 we are the streamline
 listening to my thoughts talk in screaming flight of fancy plots
 done waiting for those winds of change
 looking for a perfect place to punctuate the rat race
 open arms, empty air
 open arms, empty airs
 pardon me I make my way
 have to get out
 to the observation deck I go staring down
 don't mind me I always seem this far off the rails
 find some kind of happiness in all life's little fails
 in these cold distances vacant and barren
 we are the streamline
 we are the streamline
 we are the tendrils
 we push through the sky-ways