Lyrics: Lael Neale
Music: Lael Neale
I'm flying out now
I'm getting away
Somewhere where I won't complain
Lift above the traffic
The engines of time
The spike of the arm of the clock
The airport's a sea
With people just like me
Trying to get there from here
Killing the time
With our magazine minds
Flipping the pages too fast
Who wore it best
The Architecture's Digest
I eat, but I'm always hungry
Watch me walk quickly
Through hallways marked bright
Past perfume too sweet
Past the lines
Of liquor stacked neat
Where it's all duty-free
But we pay with this purgatory
I want to go somewhere sunny and clear
But I'm sad as the last unsold souvenir
And they say, you can never get there from here
Sit beside me
Here in economy
And wake me before I go to sleep