Besedila: John K. Samson. Other. Airport Lounge.

Slouch down in my puke-orange chair and sigh
The air is full of nerves and human cells
Beside me sits some awkward girl who lies
Fell half in love within the airport lounge

Captain says "No smoking, if we crash try not to die"
Flying some preposterous amount of meters high
The lavatory has smoke alarms and lukewarm water and I can see
The clouds outside stretched out to nowhere, ribbed and textured easily

So aimless for so long I think I might have lost my way
It's far too late to talk about tomorrow
These are things I feel and things I think and try to say
Still waiting for the morning, I'm still waiting for today

We'll try to make you see there is no way
Attempts at comprehension always miss
She lays her body down and tries to say, she tries to say, she tries to say:
"There is no answer to a kiss"

These people make me angry, what is your's and what is mine
Talk of shopping, pure white noise, abide by every "Don't Walk" sign
Dinner at the restaurant so isn't very nice
Nineteen dollars and fifty cents for some tasteless chicken and wild rice

So aimless for so long I think I might have lost my way
It's far too late to talk about tomorrow
These are things I feel and things I think and try to say
Still waiting for the morning, I'm still waiting for today

So aimless for so long I think I might have lost my way
It's far too late to talk about tomorrow
These are things I feel and things I think and try to say
Still waiting for the morning, I'm still waiting for today