JC ‘Bud’ Rochester’s Jet Plane Addiction
My jet plane is leaving
Toronto this evening
I flew out of Logan at dawn
Before I had been to
Warm San Francisco
Didn’t stay long in the sun
I’m closest to light when I fly above clouds
Through so many miles of sky
I’m closest to home in an airport lounge
I forget where I came from and why
I like all the strangers;
my brothers, my neighbors
Because they don’t ask for my name
Sometimes I meet one
who asks where I come from
My story is never the same
I’m closest to lovers when I know I won’t be
Seeing their faces again
I’m closest to loneliness saying goodbye;
I know I won’t remember them.
Sometimes I feel like following them
past these gates that are keeping me free
But I’m closest to love when I’m closest to loss;
I’m stuck in this place in between.
I’m glad for the money
my grandfathers left me
It's paid for my journey this far
In tickets and taxis,
hotels and coffee
In sermons I find at the bar
I’m closest to God when I’m wandering airports
I never look for the door
It's ok if money can’t buy me love
It can buy freedom for sure.
And sometimes I feel like following them
Away from this beautiful dream
But I’m closest to heaven when I’m closest to hell
Sitting someplace in between.
My father, my mother
And my younger brother
Never stray far from New York
Sometimes I write
Just to say I’m alright
I told them I travel for work
I don’t know if they
believe what I say;
They know I'll have money to spare
Even if I
keep burning up sky
And turning cold cash into air.
I’ve always liked
the Atlantic at night
Her black cocoon covering me
And in the day
I like the way
I can’t tell what’s sky and what’s sea
My life is reckoned in credit transactions
I’ll leave no stain on the world
When it is time
Please let the brine
And the oysters turn me into pearl.
Sometimes I feel like turning my eyes
Away from the comforting sea
but I’m closest to life and closest to death
In this blue leather reclining seat.
Toronto this evening
I flew out of Logan at dawn
Before I had been to
Warm San Francisco
Didn’t stay long in the sun
I’m closest to light when I fly above clouds
Through so many miles of sky
I’m closest to home in an airport lounge
I forget where I came from and why
I like all the strangers;
my brothers, my neighbors
Because they don’t ask for my name
Sometimes I meet one
who asks where I come from
My story is never the same
I’m closest to lovers when I know I won’t be
Seeing their faces again
I’m closest to loneliness saying goodbye;
I know I won’t remember them.
Sometimes I feel like following them
past these gates that are keeping me free
But I’m closest to love when I’m closest to loss;
I’m stuck in this place in between.
I’m glad for the money
my grandfathers left me
It's paid for my journey this far
In tickets and taxis,
hotels and coffee
In sermons I find at the bar
I’m closest to God when I’m wandering airports
I never look for the door
It's ok if money can’t buy me love
It can buy freedom for sure.
And sometimes I feel like following them
Away from this beautiful dream
But I’m closest to heaven when I’m closest to hell
Sitting someplace in between.
My father, my mother
And my younger brother
Never stray far from New York
Sometimes I write
Just to say I’m alright
I told them I travel for work
I don’t know if they
believe what I say;
They know I'll have money to spare
Even if I
keep burning up sky
And turning cold cash into air.
I’ve always liked
the Atlantic at night
Her black cocoon covering me
And in the day
I like the way
I can’t tell what’s sky and what’s sea
My life is reckoned in credit transactions
I’ll leave no stain on the world
When it is time
Please let the brine
And the oysters turn me into pearl.
Sometimes I feel like turning my eyes
Away from the comforting sea
but I’m closest to life and closest to death
In this blue leather reclining seat.