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