Grounded

Oh Stratojet, sweet Stratojet,
How marvelously high you are!
How can your pilots never fret
About being shot down by a star?
It seems they're always shooting by,
At least astronomically speaking,
And so I know I will not fly
As long as they are streaking!
I know statistics tell us that,
Oh, I don't know how much to one,
That planes won't be struck by astro scat
Or lose their feathers in the sun...
Like poor Icarus and all his wax
Whenever happenstance attacks!
But why would I take such a chance
When Earth provides the best romance?