No more walking, no New Yorking, no more fucking cold!

Minus three is very nice unless you’re fucking old!

Now it’s time to hit the skies, a pleasure to behold

It’s stormy weather in the north or so I’m fucking told.

Glance around the airport lounge, oh Lord they’re fucking fat.

Two more weeks of eating shite, and I would look like that.

Salad days and healthy ways? Well I can’t go for that!

I’ll just lay low and drink me Jack and that’s enough of that.

So once again I sit and wait. My nightmare trip to start..

I hate the fact I have to land, each time it stops my heart.

We hit the deck and weave about, my wisdom to impart

It’s not a shit but you can smell the essence of me fart!

So read these lines I pen right here and hashtag (prey for me)

For I shall fly above the clouds and sit in misery!

I fucking hate to fly you know, there is t much to see.

I’m stuck inside a tube of farts, so what will be will be!!