(After countless takeoffs and failed landings, Flight 99 left the airport for the last time. It turned toward the runway for one more attempt to fly. With thrusters initiated and increasing speed, the airliner approached the lift off point. In a matter of seconds, the pilot pulled up and they were in the sky again. All systems seemed to be running smoothly, but the copilot warned it wouldn't last. This complacence was brief, as expected, and Flight 99 reached a disturbance in the atmosphere. Peace was interrupted by chaos. Battered by irregular winds, the plane was buffeted about. They radioed the communications tower, unaware of the disorder that overwhelmed it...)
"Flight 99 to base...come in base..."
Static, no response.
"We're experiencing extreme turbulence, base!"
...
I thought the vulgarity of this emotional hurt
Would exempt me from physical pain
I guess not because I still have this ache in my chest
A pulsing turbulence, reverberating like a gong
A single, brute heart-throb that knocks me out,
But chronically returning to repeat the fatal blow.
You're the reason I draw breath
I don't need this filtered mask
That the plane has released for me
I want all of you forever
But what are we doing flying a jet airliner?!
And why did we fly so high?
We're just kids
We couldn't possibly have something this big,
But we do.
