Flying High

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