You Fly Alone
You Fly Alone is an abstract recounting of the feelings that result from over-night Winter flights to Europe. The interaction with TSA (“touch me right there, you know I don’t care,”) the rockabye motion of mild turbulence, the spacy half-sleep, lubricated by airline wine and your favorite flying music in the phones. And crucially, the knowledge that you are in a very thin tube, streaking across the black frigid Atlantic Ocean through a non-survivable sky, but things will probably be OK and you will likely not tumble down the dark starry sky into the liquid ice below. And of course the promise of adventure upon arrival. Maybe it’s Tallinn, or Belgrade, or Bucharest. Who knows what you will experience and whom you will meet. Of course, some would say “You Fly Alone” is also a metaphor for the human the human experience, and that no matter what, you are alone.
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You fly alone
Touch me down there
You know I don’t care
No need to explain
You can do it right there
Burn my cloths
And buy a new me
Head on up and see what I can see
You fly alone
Behind the great door
Is what I came for
Lock that vault
And rotate
I submit to the press
Of the poorly dressed
I’m desperate to get out.
You fly alone
How’s your tribe
Are you happy
Do they love you
Will they remember
You think you belong
Cause your singing their song
But trust me.
You’re flying alone.
You fly alone
Touch me down there
You know I don’t care
No need to explain
You can do it right there
Burn my cloths
And buy a new me
I’m desperate to get out