We fly high above the waste The smoky haze of a planet The air is grimy up here, a polluted taste We fly above the grey In floating old chairs That hold memories of days Spent elsewhere We fly above the town That looks too old for it’s time The world is just a mound And the fault is yours and mine A vague oasis once green Holds sharp memories Of the glory land prior Before the destruction and fire We fly above the waste The very waste we own We fly above and taste The medicine we wrote