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