Get Me Out of Here

I drink my nectarine juice with no BPAs

The plane’s exhaust fumes shit on the EPA

Babies are crying and cracking my skull

Drunken lunatic tries to give the latch a pull

Horny ass couples suck on faces and tits

Flight attendants’ short fuses are blown to bits

The Air Marshal fell asleep on the job

Get me out of here, I’m ready to sob

I’ll swan dive to the streets of London

Or to France for some Paris lovin’

Parachute to the beaches of Mexico

Pancake on the deserts of Texas, NO!

Anywhere is better than the airplane

Even hell starts to sound a little bit tame

The high winds will cut me to shreds

At least I’ll have my own graveyard bed

I’ll take matters into my own hands

If this plane doesn’t want to fucking land

Chuck the dipshits out of the airlock

Drag them by their greasy coach hair locks

One by one the angels fly to heaven

Or they splat at the seven-eleven

Or they’re floating on the whale road

Silence has become their only code

Oh, my word, I’ve become a flight risk

Pain in the neck like a broken cervical disk

TSA might have to pat my ass down

I’ll leave a present, something warm and brown

They say I might cause another nine-eleven

I can’t even fly a seven-forty-seven

But if it helps them sleep at night

Keep my prison cell locked up tight