Transatlantic Shooting Stars Lyrics - Ben Christophers

Fallen angel in the crowd 

Drags her heels over the noise 

Lays down at the roadside of regard 

A canyon in my broken mind 

Echos deep inside the vale 

There's dustcarts for the dead birds in the trees 

Trans-atlantic shooting stars over mainline 

Here they come suburban gods 

To bless desire 

Heaven hopes you find her here 

The raincatchers 

The devils blades 

There's karma for the misfits of our times 

Take this really you take my soul 

Take me down when you laugh I fall 

All this pity has broken me 

But my survival lies with me 

I'm going to love you as best as I can 

I'm going to hold you close when I tremble 

I'm going to love you as best as I can 

I'm going to see you rise 

I won't ever let you fall out of my senses 

Fall out of my own hands 

No I won't ever let you let you 

Will I find my way home?