by Steven Kent

“A 17-minute flight? The super-rich who have ‘absolute disregard for the planet’”
—The Guardian

(To the tune of “Come Fly With Me“)

Come fly with me, come fly, let’s fly away.
I’m rich—my rule: burn exotic fuel,
Let the common people pay.
Come fly with me, come fly, come fly away.

Come fly with me, we’ll float to Hollywood.
In La-La Land there’s an indie band,
And I hear they’re pretty good.
I’ll never fly commercial like I should.

Once I get you up there where the hoi polloi can’t go
It’s my show,
Don’t you know.
Once I get you up there I’ll be taking you cross-town;
We’ll come down
When my Instagram is updated.

Weather-wise, who cares what this might do.
The carbon burn isn’t my concern—
Buddy, screw that CO2!
It’s perfect for a pointless afternoon, I say;
Come fly with me, come fly, let’s fly away.