Текст песни Voices From The Fuselage - Meteorites

avish in these words you may not understand.
who could've predicted that this would be our bitter end.
miracle occurred - the chance is sickly thin,
between the bruises and contusions that rest on our skin.
we cleared the ocean deep, thrown downward from the sky,
but the sensation of a pull encourages the 'why?'.
the walls are ripped apart, the fumes have met the flames,
and the resistance of the flooding wind keeps them at bay.
i hear caucophany a clamour of a fear,
a fear that wracks somebody's every nerve beyond a tear.
the turbulence is fierce, as it exacerbates,
and i begin to witness everything about my fate.
as all my senses fade, despite my own protest,
the tunnel vision in the corner of my eye defects.
my fingertips are numb. i cannot hear the blight,
and with this atrophy is blinding absence of light.