|
hanging in a terminal |
|
waiting on a plane |
|
clouds gone precipitate |
|
causing a delay |
|
make it to miami |
|
maybe not today |
|
baby we can write a song |
|
and fly away |
|
well it's getting kinda cold |
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and the color of my toes |
|
match the color of your eyes |
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oh honey you begin to glow |
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well i've got you to hold |
|
when it's getting kinda frio |
|
baby we can write a song |
|
and fly away |
|
close your eyes |
|
take my hand |
|
please don't worry darling |
|
i've got this one |
|
with paper and pen |
|
cil is what i use |
|
when i begin to fuse |
|
baby we can write a song |
|
and fly away |
|
well i'm getting kinda bored |
|
i wish i could record |
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all these peoples faces |
|
when they go to look at the door |
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but nothing ever seems to come out |
|
but anger and mishaps |
|
maybe we should stay |
|
and call a cab |
|
close your eyes |
|
take my hand |
|
please dont worry darling |
|
i've got this one |
|
with paper and pen- |
|
cil is what i use |
|
when i begin to fuse |
|
baby we can write a song |
|
and go |
|
hanging in a terminal |
|
waiting on a plane |
|
clouds gone precipitate |
|
they're getting in my way |
|
but if the plane don't come |
|
then maybe it just aint my day |
|
baby we can write a song |
|
and fly away |
