Look up in the sky. Look!
Sitting in the back yard, drinking myself a beer
Watching planes overhead, as they're flying to O'Hare
I'm so tired I should be sleeping
But the undercarriage lights, they're all creeping
The planes look like they're moving slower than they are
Carrying people who sat for hours in all the airport bars
Who had conversations with strangers
Who might have put their own lives in a great deal of danger
The flight pattern strangers. The flight pattern strangers
They fly high, yet they look like they're moving so low
As they creep in somewhere, maybe even Toledo
Or it could be Poughkeepsie
And now the mood has just eclipsed me
The flight pattern strangers. Time zone exchangers
Elbow to elbow, knees hanging over the seats
They're working on their keyboards, taking shoes off their feet
I bet the flight attendant's got a tattoo
And she's bending back over the seat
Do they even see me down here?
Do they even see me down here?
I wonder if they look, I will make them a dare
To look down away from the city skyline
The story of all their lives. Has just been written by an average guy
Otherwise they would have never even known that I was alive
Will I create an accurate picture?
Will I create an accurate picture?
Will I mention everything that's important to them?
As they stow their tray carts and get ready for landing
Will I get it all right? Will I get it all right?
Or is that someone else's job tonight?
Or is that someone else's job tonight?
As one plane flies overhead
I see one out of the corner of my eye and I turn my head