Zemblanity

Into the distance, a ribbon of black
Stretched to the point of no turning back
A flight of fancy on a windswept field
Standing alone , my senses reeled
Fatal attraction is holding me fast,
How can I escape this irresistible grasp?

Can't keep my eyes from the circling skies
Tongue-tied and twisted Just an earth-bound misfit, I

Ice is forming on the tips of my wings
Unheeded warnings, I thought I thought of everything
No navigator to find my way home
Unladened, empty and turned to stone

The soul intention is learning to fly
Condition grounded but determined to try

Pink Floyd - Delicate Sound Of Thunder - Disk 1 - Learning To Fly