Flying High
I was in the city
And saw an airplane flying low
And as it was lifting
I wondered where it would go
I had been high myself
And had taken many trips
And with drugs and booze had felt
Like a plane a bit
Booze and drugs were everywhere
But I always came back down
With depression and despair
When I crashed back to the ground
My travel became too much
And I decided it best to stay
With the sober and in touch
With God my pilot each day
God made me a reservation in Heaven
Where I’ll see the angels’ wings
And where I’ll be high all the time
With no booze or worrying