I was so sick of the color grey, that I could
Literally throw up upon the sheepskin seats, stubbornly
Trying to declare to the world, that this was
Actually a really classy place to spend your work day
A mirror smooth surface, seemingly
Crying out to be touched, by the soft
Pampered fingertips of a union pilot, reminded
Me that not all in this sphere was the color of boredom
A flowing black Lucite two-way pathway
Human hands to control wheel and back
The yoke was my dark angel in the light
Staving off the madness of the grey cockpit sight
Some color in here would be nice, though at that
thought I think again twice, as I'd once
Spent six months in Guam, flying a
Douglas DC-9 whose cockpit was a jaunty seafoam green
It was simply the worst I'd ever seen
And much worse than this everyday grey
So with a glance at my guiding star in the eyebrow window
I pray for the strength to do more bitching about color today
Literally throw up upon the sheepskin seats, stubbornly
Trying to declare to the world, that this was
Actually a really classy place to spend your work day
A mirror smooth surface, seemingly
Crying out to be touched, by the soft
Pampered fingertips of a union pilot, reminded
Me that not all in this sphere was the color of boredom
A flowing black Lucite two-way pathway
Human hands to control wheel and back
The yoke was my dark angel in the light
Staving off the madness of the grey cockpit sight
Some color in here would be nice, though at that
thought I think again twice, as I'd once
Spent six months in Guam, flying a
Douglas DC-9 whose cockpit was a jaunty seafoam green
It was simply the worst I'd ever seen
And much worse than this everyday grey
So with a glance at my guiding star in the eyebrow window
I pray for the strength to do more bitching about color today
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