Starlings Of The Slipstream

I heard what you said
The leaders are dead
They’re robbing the skies
I can hear their followers cry:
Ah…ooh…starlings in the slipstream
Ah…ooh…starlings in the slipstream
Ah…ooh…starlings in the slipstream
Ah…ooh…starlings in the slipstream

The language of influence
Is cluttered with hard hard see’s
And I put a spy-cam in a sorority
Ah…ooh…darlings on the split-screen
Ah…ooh…darlings on the split-screen
Ah…ooh…darlings on the split-screen
Ah…ooh…darlings on the split-screen
Ah…ooh

There’s no women in Alaska
There’s no Creoles in Vermont
There’s no coast of Nebraska
My mother, I forgot
Slavic princess with a rose in her teeth
Do you suppose she would bite you if she could?
Insane cobra split the wood
Trader of the lowland breed
Call a jittney, drive away
In the slipstream we will stay
Stay away, away, away, away, away, away, away, away, away