A long distance call
There was a delay
A satellite shift
There's nothing to say
I don't have a past
I just have a room
The TV set's on
And a storm's coming through
A storm's coming through
A storm's coming through
A storm's coming through
The sky was the ground
The ground was the sky
I hope that your trip
Was better than mine
Up in the air
Harold Lloyd hangs
I'm six weeks ago
And everything's changed
Everything's changed
Everything's changed
Everything's changed
I lose control of my arms and legs
Life's been replaced by a dull ache
I'm half-exposed, the other half's dead
Three bullets you shot in the back of my head
In the back of my head
In the back of my head
In the back of my head