The seat belt sign is illuminated

The flight attendant’s beyond frustrated

The Passengers are drunk and frayed

A baby’s screaming in seat 16A 

Another flight from here to where?

Crammed in a sardine can with not enough air

We’re on the map, I know that much

But the directions I really need are in your touch

Prepare for landing, says the captain

As the plane arcs down to the looming horizon

Ushering us onto some foreign soil 

I touch the ground, and see your smile

Up and down, and down and up

Coke, Sprite, Beer, Pretzels, Peanuts

As we careen through empty sky

It feels like nothing but you and I

Prepare for landing, says the captain 

Out the window, the sun is setting

Hand in mine, you give a squeeze

You’re all the home I’ll ever need