| lyric | 1. Coming in from London from over the pole,
Flyiing in a big airliner.
Chicken flying ev’rywhere around the plane,
Could we ever feel much finer?
Chorus:
Coming into Los Angeles,
Bringing in a couple of keys;
Don’t touch my bags if yoou please,
Mister Customs Man.
2. There’s a guy with a ticket to Mexico.
No, he couldn’t look much stranger.
Walking in the hall with his things and all.
Smiling, said he was the Lone Ranger.
3. Hip woman walking on a moving floor,
Tripping on the escalator.
There’s a man in the line and she’s blowing his mind,
Thinking that he’s already made her.
4. Coming in from London over the Pole,
Flying in a big airliner.
Chickens flying everywhere around the plane,
Could we ever feel much finer? |