Lyrics:
Feels like you never understand me
So I just wanna drive
To the airport, the airport
The airport, the airport
I guess the apple could turn yellow
true and what is just another art form. Now I've always been intere! sted in trying to define what makes up the late twentieth century American for
It's time to go she holds her tears back
The airport giveth the airport taketh away
The same old show he says he'll come back
The airport giveth
Come and take me to the airport
Come and board me on that plane
'Cause I've got no expectations
To ever pass this way again
Well, once I was a rich
an interesting list of tips devised by the US embassy in Madrid, and these tips were designed for Americans who found themselves in war-time airports. The idea was
seldom get
Only for Americans
Our finest art is in the Louvre
The ones the experts don't approve
Are only for Americans
We keep an artist by
heard him at the airport
i know he moves along th epiers
he calls himself a journey agent
a eulipion
syas hi freinds the poets and the artists adn
temple!)
My shoes off at the airport (airport, airport, airport, airport)
I couldn't talk him out if I tried to
He's already seen American Sniper
Sold American
Sold American
Disembarking at Duvalier Airport
Seeking transportation to town
As the purple ink dried on his passport
He could still feel the eyes look around
Dear Till Family:
As a recording artist
I have always been interested in word play
My lyrics often reference people, places
And events in my music
Yeah, American nights coming out of that dash
Going big time on a little bit of cash
Ain't nothing better, no there ain't nothing like
American
again I
Would have gone to the Art Institute
Over the American Academy of Art
I would have researched where I could have
Got the best and the strongest
all the same to you, to you
But when you learn your lesson
Come back like a prodigal son
Read the big sign at the airport
Bienvenue from hell, mon
am never sprung but I Springer, Jerry
Don't try to this at home, results may vary
King like T.I. But in the Chi, Lary
Whova? Hova, botha
American
There are no lyrics to this track. It is intentionally blank, with each of the 71 seconds representing one of the years that the artist's father,
Your next favourite artist (Artist , Artist , Artist)
You're my favourite artist (Artist)
He moves efficiently
Beyond security
Great opportunity awaits
Airport fluorescent
Creature of habit
Labored breathing and shallow skin
Recycled
Hey, I'm a sky-bo and I see the world from an airplane
That's a hobo that can't get around fast enough on a train
But from an airport to depot
flying over my home in about three hours time
This old airport's got me down, it's no earthly good to me
Because I'm stuck here on the ground, cold
was really coming down
Deep and crisp beneath
And it settled on the ground
It looks like Christmas, Christmas at the airport
All the planes are
So take me to the airport
And put me on a plane
I've got no expectations
To pass through here again
So take me to the airport
And put me on a plane
I've got no expectations
To pass through here again
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