With molded copper, framed-out wings

we flew like birds without strings

We rode the urban, smoke-filled skies

beneath the heavens' watchful eyes

Betty in her bustle and Bobby in his dapper duds

amid the mid-day hustle, gazed at us up above

To think of reaching places beyond our scope

when sunlight on our faces blinded us in hope

was naught but fantasy to the jeering crowd

as we went on steering from cloud to cloud

and yet our simple passion could not be swayed

'Betting all' was out of fashion; yet the course, we stayed

As we dared to glance at the small town lights

we felt this chance was ours by right

Dreamers are born and builders are built

in the heat of scorn and the ashes of guilt

Set fire to the sneers of yesterday below

and rise to the cheers; for tomorrow is where we'll go