There's something solid falling in the air
The Wall of Death is lowered in Times Square
No one seems to care
They carry on as if nothing was there
The wind is blowing harder now
Blowing dust into my eyes
The dust settles on my skin
Making a crust I cannot move in
And I'm hovering like a fly
Waiting for the windshield freeway
Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome
Your friend and mine, Steve Rothery
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