I am looking through a foreign window at a foreign sky
 And I can't find a single familiar star
 I have traveled all the roads from the east to the west
 Looking back only to see my tracks disappear
 But if I have a decent pack of cigarettes
 then perhaps the night is young and things aren't so bad 
And a ticket for the airplane with a silver-tipped wing leaving nothing but a shadow on the way to the clouds 
And no one would ever choose guilt over wine.
 And no one is chosen to deal with the heat Without music, you know, there's no glory in death without the music you perish in bitter defeat 
But if I have a decent pack of cigarettes then perhaps the night is young and things aren't so bad And a ticket for the airplane with a silver-tipped wing leaving nothing but a shadow on the way to the clouds [bad word] [bad word]