landing any more. Drowning in these tumblers Tumbles through these doors Swinging out to cold cement From sticky, hard tiled floors. This is the route we wander
of landing anymore. Drowning in these tumblers, stumbles through these doors, swinging out to cold cement from sticky, hard tile floors. These are the routes we wander
landing anymore. Drowning in these tumblers, stumbles through these doors, swinging out to cold cement from sticky, hard tile floors. These are the routes we wander
Translation: The Falcon. The Routes We Wander.
Translation: Los Falcons. I'm So Happy I Could Just Cry Myself To Sleep -or- The Routes We Wander.