[one of several lyrics for songs I returned to many times, and may well again, like a piece of crochet]
Nick the friendly ghost
floats on the redeye
that goes coast to coast
stares through his dead eyes
to see what you won't,
to reap what you've sown.
Leaning back in coach
you fall sleep
and slip into the dream
where you first meet
she kisses you outside
you buck and then you glide.
Nick is wide awake
he's scared of flying.
Even though he's dead,
he's scared of dying
you're happy where you are,
gliding through the stars.
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