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We're sitting out here on the runway, |
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Waiting for the plane to leave, |
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And the captain says, "There'll be a short delay, |
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Bear with me please," |
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They gave us the usual hassle, |
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"You can't take those guitars on board," |
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But the boys in the band just smiled, |
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Heard it all before, |
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And as they're starting to serve champagne, |
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To the folks at the front of the plane, |
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I can hear the engines roaring, we're on our way, |
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And we are flying home, |
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I feel the freedom in my soul, |
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Flying home at last; |
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Flying home, |
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I've got the freedom in my soul, |
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And it's four in the morning, |
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{ My world is calling, |
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Speeding through the universe tonight... |
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The movie reminds of my lady, |
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As she waits, "where are those guys?" |
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Yes it's nice to see old Butch and Sundance in the sky, |
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And now the sun is beginning to rise, |
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It's like looking down on Paradise, |
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There's a ball of fire that's burning, giving life, |
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And we are flying home, |
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I feel the freedom in my soul, |
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Flying home at last; |
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Flying home, |
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I've got the freedom in my soul, |
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And it's four in the morning, |
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My world is calling, |
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Speeding through the universe tonight... |