Joe Bonamassa

Seagull, you fly 'cross the horizon
Into the misty morning sun
Nobody asked you where you are going
Nobody knows where you're from
There is a man asking a question
Is it a really the end of the world?
Seagull, you must have known for a long time
The shapes of things to come
Now you fly through the sky
Never asking why
And you fly all around
Until somebody shoots you down