I’m stuck here
In this little
Seat pasted
Here in the air
In the middle chair
I cannot see
All the things
Out there
Four more hours
I cannot wait
There is no
Rhyme or reason
The next business trip
I will not take
Surely they cannot sue me
For treason
The peanuts
Are the seasoned kind
That do not dissolve
With coke
If I don’t
Get some water soon
I surely will
Just choke
I’ve flown the skies
Some thirty years now
The mileage
Just keeps doubling
But try to take
A vacation on what you earn
The availability
Is quite troubling
The sooner we
Land the better I’ll be
Both feet
Well on the ground
Just land me
Safely on the tarmac
I’ll no longer
Make a sound
