Race The Sun

You'd never catch her dead disheveled She wore her buttons brassed and beveled Air host, Continental, Houston bound And this land that cradles yours and mine Is home to hers just part of the time Close the gate, by god, she's leaving the ground Up there time's a foregone end They can race the sun and nearly win Every touchdown's another one, amen, born again The doctor slumps down on the lawyer man's chest One village meets another and they're all headed west Ninety bolts of lightning striking this sliver of time Stuffed in the corner of your every beck and command Call her the shepherd of limbo with a seltzer in her hand Lie down tender ones, you're all bound to see it through Tucked back in and settled Hardly ten grand to the level Front end locked and sterile, final circle in But like a wave the fleet descended Left the gates on ground congested They'll be stuck up above and waiting, holding again So out the porthole barely blinking She watches Houston slowly sinking As the city churns on unthinking, paying no mind And as the Earth calls out demanding That inevitable act of landing Upon further reflection, it suits her just fine Up there time's a foregone end They can race the sun and nearly win Every touchdown's another one, amen, born again