Airport fifty-five
is a strange place to choose to fly
there aren’t pilots not even planes
but empty bags and many blames
There is a woman her coral mouth
big big hands she’s so fat
you aren’t here she’s looking at me
she’s so near she’s following me
I miss your hugs I miss your kicks I miss your chugs I miss your lips
your mind is gray your mind is blue your mind is clay your mind is true
airport fifty-five
is a strange place to choose to fly
now the woman’s plane is falling down
the black box will be her house
the fire burns the evil one
the black box will be her urn
now airport fifty-five
is a good place to start to stay
I miss your hugs I miss your kicks I miss your chugs I miss your lips
your mind is gray your mind is blue your mind is clay your mind is true
I miss your dreads I miss your tricks I miss your legs I miss your tips
your mind is red your mind is fine your mind is bad your mind is mine