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Roaring engines, wheels on tarmac Flight 82 is running late Pilots push the throttle forward Flight 82 disappears into the black The nose rises, the speed quickens G-forces push you through your seat Inkiness outside the windows thickens The planes’ destination silently beckons The plane reverberates with a steady hum Passengers unclasp their belts A little girl looks into the eyes of her Mum As this huge metal object gathers momentum The pilots are weary, they’re working overtime Their minds and focus drift When the birds’ big nose begins to climb And red lights flash and alarms chime Something’s wrong. Pilot’s now wide awake They go into survival mode But the plane takes on a deadly shake As they try to figure out their mistake Panicking passengers silently say their prayers Praying for God to watch over them Others confused with frightened stares Sit motionless in their chairs Flight attendants jump into action Trying to calm the passengers down Giving out emergency instruction Disguising their fear, showing no reaction They’ve done this drill, in class, on the ground But it’s so different miles high in the air Surrounded by chaos all around Where crying and screaming is the only sound The Captain speaks over microphone Stammering, stuttering, and trying to sound calm Saying “Get into crash position as shown”. “Stay that way til more is known”. One engine’s gone, another is dying As they radio to the tower “Mayday, Mayday”, the Captain is crying As the co-pilot shakes his head, sighing Heads between legs as the passengers wait Bewildered and confused To hear the Captain tell of their fate Praying hours from now they’ll celebrate The pilots stick rigidly to their role But their hopes have quickly faded Cos they have lost all control They can’t save anyone, not one soul As the plane falls from the sky Minds going ten to the dozen People on board keep asking, “Why”? “Why me”? “Why today”? “Why did I fly”? Pilots in the cockpit, tracing the sign of the cross As the Earth races up to meet them Making their peace, with their maker, the boss Why would God allow this devastating loss? A deafening silence encompasses the plane As they come to terms with the inevitable People writhing in excruciating pain Suffering in silence, going surely insane The impact is like a nuclear explosion Metal disintegrates, body parts strewn One hundred souls begin their next excursion A leap of faith, hoping heaven’s no illusion Flight 82 lies crumbling in its grave The once intense fire, peetering out Poor old bird, not a one could it save It failed in its purpose as a human slave.
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