Take me up to the thunderclouds, take me away from the earth.

Take me away from the streets and crowds,

Closer to God's own mirth.

Up in the raw material of benevolent angel wings.

Take me up to an altitude where I sit with another man

Of a different race and a different face and a different family clan.

Up in the melting pot and foundry of social graces.

Take me away through the foggy layer of soiled and spotted air

Away from the pressing troubles of the lifelong daily care.

Up where the only problem is how long 'til we get there!

Take me up on steel-gray wings that lift me from the ground

That hold the thundering turbines that deafen me with sound

Up 'til the sun burns off the dew at thirty-thousand feet.

Take me up to a lunch of steak, Chateaubriand with sauce

Chocolate and Orange gateau, with crackers and cheese, of course.

And a stewardess who smiles at me whenever she passes by.