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