Flyover

Flyover

Go on and flyover, flyover
And when you touch down
I hope you’ve found your home
Go on and flyover, flyover
We’ll be in this town
On this hallowed ground, our home

From thirty thousand feet above
It’s hard for you to feel the love
That lifts us up and binds us to this ground
From your business class window seat
It’s hard for you to feel the beat
That gets us up and lets us dance around

From your McDonnell-Douglas airplane
It’s hard to hear the sweet refrain
Of these songs we sing on these long and winding roads
While you watch your comlimentary in-flight screen
It’s hard for you to imagine a scene
Down here where life is not measured out in gold

You wouldn’t live here if they paid you to
You wouldn’t live here, no sirree
You wouldn’t do the things that these people do
You wouldn’t live here if they paid you to

So go on and flyover, flyover
And when you touch down
I hope you’ve found your home
Go on and flyover, flyover
We’ll be in this town
On this hallowed ground, our home
Go on and flyover, flyover
And when you touch down
I hope you’ve found your home

© 2018 Nic Arp. All rights reserved.