For against

Friendly fires

For against
Flying so high
Flying so high
You can hear them
You can see them

They're on their way
They're on their way
Over
To you

No one can escape
This kind of war
Fourty-thousand feet
Above the floor

And the little children
Have nowhere to run
They don't even know
What's going on

Flying so high
Flying so high
You can hear them
You can see them

They're on their way
They're on their way
Over
To you

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