I don’t really like to fly.
I don’t mind being up that high,
But I don’t like the nauseous rush
I don’t like all the salty food,
The tension of my neighbour’s mood,
The smell of jet-fuel stinking up
I’m getting better, I’ll admit.
My last flight only sucked a bit.
Of course, I slept the whole flight
I’d like to read my Kindle there
While soaring up into the air,
But they don’t let you turn them on
That rule’s ridiculous, I think.
Is this plane close to the brink
Of plummeting if someone has
And so I bring a paper book
Or rest my eyes, or take a look
And see the ground descend under