Ghosts of Planes

The air is thin, the air is thin
The Top of the World Club's what we're in
How thin the air, how thin the air
The Top of the World Club isn't there

With easy grace they crawl
Across the shadow-shifting city sky
An aerial flotilla
The ghosts of planes pass by

Their gravid bellies bursting
Gravity distended out of shape;
From the consequence of action
History offers no escape

Arrival and departure
All points in between now coincide
Here's a ticket to oblivion
Onward passage is denied

The air is thin, the air is thin
The Top of the World Club's what we're in
How thin the air, how thin the air
The Top of the World Club isn't there any more