Antarctica Songtext
von Hands Like Houses

Father, we fled your house of grey
We ran from home to seek a place
Where our bodies would never grow

Dreamer, child, be cautious of this world
She has an appetite for boys and girls
And she′s hungry for your soul

Little boys with dreams of paper planes
Were never meant to scrape the sky
Keep your feet on the ground kid
Only birds were meant to fly

Little boys with dreams of paper planes
Were never meant to scrape the sky
Keep your head from the clouds kid
Keep your wings, always keep them by your side

Remember, before you fly, you'll fall
Before you walk, you′ll crawl
Before you fly, you'll fall
Before you walk, you'll crawl


You′ve no need to stitch your shadow to your heels
No, not this time

Son, you′ll walk with no whisper, no sound
Only the feet of the heavy-hearted are held to the ground
You've no need to draw the curtains, son, throw them wide
Cross the borders between the never-ending night

Find the twinkle in your smile
Chase it on ′til morning
Past the second star to the right

Little boys with dreams of paper planes
Were never meant to scrape the sky
Keep your feet on the ground kid
Only birds were meant to fly

Little boys with dreams of paper planes
Were never meant to scrape the sky
Keep your head from the clouds kid
Keep your wings, always keep them by your side

We'll be the smoke curling on the still
The airship captains, we wait for sun to brush the hills


Son, I share your windward dreams
To soar from this little town of shacked up windows
And swinging doors (swinging doors)
The rafters creak and the floorboards groan
While the shadows dance to the tapping of my toes

There′s nothing left for us but altitude
We'll be the kings of the air (there′s nothing left for us here, there's nothing left for us here)
There's nothing left for us but altitude
We′ll be the kings of the air (we′ll be the kings of the air)

Stolen by the wind that turns the leaves to razors
Holding just a string, our twine and our paper lost to the breeze
Stolen by the wind that turns the leaves to razors
Holding just a string, our twine and our paper lost to the breeze