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Fly, fly

I’m always saying goodbye

Sky above

To the people I love

Plane, plane

Pure pangs of pain

Up up and away

They never stay.

Terminal, terminal

What am I doing here

I’m not arriving or departing

Just waiting for my passenger to appear

It’s all cheesy, it’s all crappy

This place don’t make me happy

Outside the taxis and limos come and go

Why I can’t get out of this, I don’t know

Fly, fly

Kiss ‘em all goodbye

Sky above

Send ‘em all off with my love

Plane, plane

My meager gain

Up up and away

So I earn my pay.

Parking, parking

Most people don’t know how to drive

Long term, short term

I wait for my flight to arrive

It’s all crummy, it’s all tacky

Turnkey turkeys, hangdogs and lackeys

Gate, ramp, escalator, baggage carousel

Delicate jet fuel bouquets, what an exquisite smell

Fly, fly

The weeks are flying by

Sky above

Take me back to the ones I love

Plane, plane

I wait in vain

Up up and away

After a long delay.

Security, security

It’s where I always take my leave

All the jetways, all the runways

A few naked minutes to grieve

Ticket counters, airline logos

A new crop of farewell photos

Every time I’m seeing off my precious girls

As they jet into the atmosphere

to another part of the world

Fly, fly

I’m always saying goodbye

Sky above

To the people that I love

Plane, plane

Take off and land again

Up up and away ...

Come back to stay.

© 2023 The Hesh Inc.

TWA Terminal - original photo by The Hesh Inc.
Photo by the writer

I wrote this song during the period of my life that I call my "holding pattern." I had recently moved back to the East Coast from my first sojourn in Los Angeles. I missed my daughters terribly, and it seemed that most of my last views at airports was of their retreating backs as they walked down the jetways after saying goodbye to me at the end of another visit. It didn't help matters that the only work I found at the time to help me make ends meet was as a limousine driver; most of my trips were to the airport, so apart from the long hours vs insufficient pay per hours worked, the traffic and parking hassles, and the other assorted annoyances that are part of the job, I was constantly reminded of always saying goodbye to my beloved daughters. Thank G-d I got out of that racket. I always say I hate airports. This is why. Musically, this takes more than a little from Tom Waits' slow blues, "Depot, Depot." I recorded this as a piano-and-vocal-only demo in 2018 and performed it live at gigs numerous times. I currently plan to include it on A Driver's Life, a projected album about my "season in hell" as a limo driver.

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