Like birds on the high line they line up at nighttime at the bar.
They all once were lovebirds, now bluebirds are all that they are.
They landed in hell and in it they fell from love's sky.
Now, they hope in a while that they'll find a new way to fly.
A new way to fly far away from goodbye.
Above the clouds and the rain, the memories and pain and the tears that they cry.
Now the lessons been learned. They've all crashed and burned.
They'd leave it behind if they could just find a new way to fly.
By the end of the night they'll be high as a kite once again.
And they don't seem to mind all the time or the money they spend.
It's a high price to pay to just find a way to get by.
But it's worth every night if they find a new way to fly.
They'll leave it behind as soon as they find a new way to fly.