A boarding pass, a taken seat:
Deny the oft-occluded street
And while the miles away on high -
Good Lord, preserve me if I die.

The cramp and bustle of the aisle
Refutes the notions "sleek" and "style",
But, packed and stacked, we came to fly -
Good Lord, preserve me if I die.

I'll miss the rails and roads, well-tracked -
And miss them more, my stomach wracked
By nerves, by swerves, by wind and sky -
Good lord, preserve me if I die.

"I loved the skyplane's daring curves
In youth, but now her fuel reserves
Do more to shore my faith," I sigh.
Good Lord, preserve me if I die.

I ache to meet the ground once more,
But not too soon. If that's the score,
I plead, spare my beloved's eye.
Good Lord, preserve me if I die.