My man is a man of the sky,
spending his life mostly on flights.
Strangers of nowhere he passed by
are haunting ghosts of his damn busy life.

I’m thinking if he’s sitting by a window,
gazing his tireless mind and tiring eyes from up above
at a little silver cloud flowing just below.
Would he know that it’s my soul and him I follow?

Lord, please take care of my man_
the man of your bluest sky.
Send him beautiful faces and smiles,
guard his sleep at night under starlight
and secretly stain his lips with my kiss of goodbye.