A hot air balloon floats in the sky, blocking the sun.
People run rampant, I’m looking for my gun. I’ll throw a rope to the sky, climb on high, bring back the light.
The rope won’t reach, my gun won’t fire, the balloon which has taken away all sight.
Instead I wait, pop some sleeping pills, pass the time till the hot air balloon floats on by.
Days pass, weeks pass, yet it stays up high.
As people adapt, the balloon floats off, as the sun burns our eyes, we long for the hot air balloon for the first time.