broadcast these ambitions across the fabric of space
bleed into the sine wave
while reverberations escape
when they leave the radio...
will our voices find a home?
or go sleeping in the winding roads?
sleeping in the winding roads...
since birth we've been working
to refine the noise that we make;
and these lines seemed important
but they all came out like mistakes
when they leave the radio...
will our voices find a home?
or go sleeping in the winding roads?
oh, sleeping in the winding roads...
drifting endlessly alone...