Boys and girls in cars Dogs and birds on lawns From here I can make the sun Yeah, yeah, your pocket, I believe we are born to touch the Tropic of Capricorn is below Yeah yeah yeah yeah We stall above the pole Still your face young as we feel our weight return Yeah yeah A trail of shooting stars The horses call of storm Because the air the charge Yeah yeah yeah, yeah, the radio is on, and Houston knows the score Can you feel it contain? We're almost home Yeah yeah yeah yeah The crew ...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cEnHMj67FCs&hl=en
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