| In his imagination
|
| He’s flying high
|
| His thoughts are wings
|
| Taking him up
|
| Into the sky
|
| In his imagination
|
| He’s anywhere
|
| When he floats back down to earth
|
| He doesn’t want to live there
|
| Tonight he’s working the midnight shift
|
| Arriving at ten
|
| Learning how slowly 12 can turn
|
| Into 7 am
|
| He’s up to his eyes
|
| In stuff he’ll despise
|
| The same as every weekday
|
| But inside his head
|
| He’s easily led
|
| And in his imagination
|
| He’s flying away
|
| In his imagination
|
| He’s flying away
|
| In his imagination
|
| He tells me his mother says
|
| He should be glad to be employed
|
| Unlike so many young folk today
|
| But he’s not exactly overjoyed
|
| He’s up to his eyes
|
| In stuff he’ll despise
|
| The same as every weekday
|
| But inside his head
|
| He’s easily led
|
| And in his imagination
|
| He’s flying away
|
| In his imagination
|
| He’s flying away
|
| In his imagination
|
| Monday evening
|
| I see he’s back with a smile on his face
|
| Says he’s had a call from London
|
| And been offered a place
|
| He’s leaving next week
|
| The future’s not bleak
|
| He’s going to be an artist
|
| He’s got an idea
|
| Could be a career
|
| He knows he’s one of the smartest
|
| Flying away
|
| Through his imagination
|
| He’s flying away
|
| In his imagination
|
| He’s flying away
|
| In his imagination
|
| He’s flying away
|
| In his imagination |