Planes

Oh, Jesse, I'd like to be
One of those men up on the screen
With an elegant lady and a cafe in Paris
Serving Pernod and Kahlua with cream

You can see it, I know
All the doors have been closed in my face
And the drinks at the Casbah
'Bout a mile or more from the place

And oh, Jesse, won't you look at the planes?
Tell me, oh, Jesse is it true what they say?
There's a capital G in the name of the game
The runway's the home of my silver gray plane

Oh, won't, you look at the planes
Riding down the skyway?
Jesse, aren't those wings just fine?
Don't it make you wanna fly someday

Why, friend, am I so still?
Tied to my job with time to kill
Do I still bear the traces of my old Don Quixote?
Tilting giants on imaginary hills

And, oh, Jesse, won't you look at the planes?
Tell me, oh, Jesse, is it true what they say?
There's a capitol G in the name of the game
The runway's the home of my silver gray plane

Oh, won't, you look at the planes
Riding down the skyway?
Jesse, aren't those wings just fine?
Don't it make you wanna fly someday

Oh, won't, you look at the planes
Riding down the skyway?
Jesse, aren't those wings just fine?
Don't it make you wanna fly someday