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Forcefield
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Women On Wings
Ooh oh it's the happy hour
And only ten a.m.
I'm eight miles up
But only two shots high
A mile high waitress
Tells me put out that cigarette
What do you want from me to tell you how I love to fly
Accidentally, cruising endlessly oh oh
Please don't you tell me it's one of those things
Angels from hell, those women on wings
Persistently pleasing the women on wings
Constantly at war with those women on wings
Yes in this uneasy chair
Strapped down and tender
Puts on more coffee
Smile your subservient smile
What do you want from me
What do you want to hear
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Do I have to tell you how I love to fly
On a high wire, slowly getting wired
Please don't you tell me it's one of those things
Angels from hell, those women on wings
Persistently pleasing the women on wings
Constantly at war with those women on wings
Am I a traveller
Or just a prisoner
Don't want the Newsweek
And I can't stand to look at more time
More time
Please don't you tell me it's one of those things
Angels from hell, those women on wings
Persistently pleasing the women on wings
Constantly at war with those women on wings
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