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