All right roll me a number, *whispers*Not dancer not dancer*
Bombs away
All right roll me a number, *whispers*Not dancer not dancer*
Hawkes
We soar up high,
We never look down.
We fly the sky
With naught but a frown.
Our glaring eyes,
Our neverending search;
We fly the skies,
Only stopping to perch.
I think you know,
It's not hard to see,
When you just get up and go
You don't live happily.
Yet away I will fly, I'll never stop,
Till I find my perch, the cream of the crop
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