I take a breath and pull the air in 'til there'snothing left

I'm feeling green like teenage lovers between the sheets

Knuckles clenched to white as the landinggear retract for flight

My head's a balloon inflating with thealtitude

I watch the patchwork farms' slow fade intothe ocean's arms

And from here they can't see me stare

The stale taste of recycled air

The Postal Service - Recycled Air