Dream Jet

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Why do I play Old Blue Eyes
after all the wine has gone?

Why do I yearn for that
zoot-suit and shiny big-band song?

The twists of the road,
Manhattan crashes,

as if I looked down from a height -
what a Liberty  - in all her sashes -

treading a road of air
John F. Kennedy says is clear.

My dear,
only fear is to fear;

let's go there
through sunset,

catch the 'Sonic Star',
let the moth from the jar,

roll back old dusk's carpet,
drink up the daylight
and land where new dawn shall begin,

on the Mach 3 flight
to outrun the night.

We'll book into a Gaudi hotel;
it'll be swell

in Barcelona -
never alone again.




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