Fly on a Windshield (Live in London 2024)

There's something solid forming in the air,

The wall of death is lowered in Times Square

No one seems to care

They carry on as if nothing was there

The wind is blowing harder now,

Blowing dust into my eyes

The dust settles on my skin,

Making a crust I cannot move in

And I'm hovering like a fly, waiting for the windshield on the freeway