In my youth I thought that I would fly airplanes
It didnt work out quite like that
Reading the comics in the Sunday paper
The rest of it is just too sad
But I'm not a pilot
But I'm still a dreamer
And one day I dreamed I would fly to the moon
Watching the drop thats on the big tall windows
I've always loved the sight of rain
It makes me remember how the smell of adventure
Doesn't always end in pain
The sound of the storm lights
Will last for a lifetime
but once they are gone
I will bring you along
Ive got a message to write
Till then the story of how I became a pilot
Will be untold
In my I eyes I feel the light of the storm lights
almost if it wasnt there
Watching the sun dissolve behind the pine trees
with no one in the world to care
For I'm not a pilot
but thats what I've chosen
So come take my hand
and we'll fly to the moon

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