Boeing jets go by
More at night
Than in the day
Going their way
Hundreds of feet
Off the ground
Feel the power
In the sound
Counting them
Come and go
It's the sound
I now know
Only 8 minutes
In time have passed
Hear the engines
With their blast
Coming into earshot
Vibrating crowded metropolis
That's where cities have got us
Eardrums beating to 747's
Taking up some space in heavens
That's the place I'm knowing
Where the jets are blowing
Noise pollution down to me
Not to hear the wind-wheat sea
That blows in that little town
Where all the wheat fields did surround
My spirit with the peace of nothing
Only airplanes there are bluffing
Wheat to grow to it's highest form
In little rain wind blowing norm
My mind goes there as now
To get away from jets somehow.
