Weakley-Yorty

People run in circles around each other's minds
Aw they're playin games and they're callin' names
Tryin' hard not to speak unless they're spoken to
On their Long Days Flight till tomorrow

Smoke filled rooms with prophets all waiting for
Their day. They philosophise and close their eyes
Drift to deep and dark illuminations on their
Long Days Flight till tomorrow

Sometimes I find these people coming out of light
They have found themselves underground
They have found everything going down, sir

Each one asks the other why so many lose their way
You think they've found some solid ground while all
Around them you know that time is moving, on their
Long Days Flight till tomorrow