Wired were the eyes of a horse on a jet pilot,
One that smiled when he flew over the bay,
Wired were the eyes of a horse on a jet pilot,
One that smiled when he flew over the bay.

My horse
Is a shackled old man,
His, his remorse
Was that he couldn't survey
The skies right before,
Right before they went gray,
My horse and my remorse
Flying over a great bay.

Wired were the eyes of a horse on a jet pilot,
One that smiled when he flew over the bay,
Wired were the eyes of a horse on a jet pilot,
One that smiled when he flew over the bay.

My source
Is the source of all creation,
Her discourse
Is that we all don't survey
The skies right before,
Right before they go gray,
My source and my remorse
Flying over a great bay.

Wired were the eyes of a horse on a jet pilot,
One that smiled when he flew over the bay,
Wired were the eyes of a horse on a jet pilot,
One that smiled when he flew over the bay.
Wired were the eyes of a horse on a jet pilot,
One that smiled when he flew over the bay,
Wired were the eyes of a horse on a jet pilot,
One that smiled when he flew over the bay.

Wired were the eyes of a horse on a jet pilot,
One that smiled when he flew over the bay,
Wired were the eyes of a horse on a jet pilot,
One that smiled when he flew over the bay.
Wired were the eyes of a horse on a jet pilot,
One that smiled when he flew over the bay,
Wired were the eyes of a horse on a jet pilot,
One that smiled when he flew over the bay.