perfect

We have the driver and time on our hands
One little room and the biggest of plans
The days were shaping up, frosty and bright
Perfect weather to fly, perfect weather to fly

Pounding the streets where my father's feet still
Ring from the walls, we'd sing in the doorways or bicker and row
Just figuring how we were wired inside
Perfect weather to fly

So in looking to stray from the line
We decided instead we should pull out the thread
That was stitching us into this tapestry vile
And why wouldn't you try? Perfect weather to fly