Tim Minchin - Airport Piano lyrics

I wrote this song on an airport piano
I was the guy disturbing
Your journey from security
To gate twenty-three A maybe you noticed me
I wrote this song cos I had a spare hour
I was delayed trying to get back
To my babies in Sydney
And I noticed the keys so I’m writing a song
Singin’

Women in SUV Porsches always look miserable
I don’t know why they’re so sad
Maybe it’s the calories they coulda had
Filling them up with regret
And men in cafes in ski resorts
Trying to connect with their sons
Look like they just wanna hit ‘em
I mean I’m sure that they dig
‘em underneath all the gear
A young man in Air Jordans
Just left me five dollars on the piano
Whattaya know

I always hated those airport pianos
Should be a law saying playing the
Theme from Beverly Hills Cop
Will get one of your hands chopped off
I wrote this song on an airport piano
I’m out of time I just
Need one more little rhyme
I gotta board that plane
They’re calling my name
So I’m writing a song singin’

Women in SUV Porsches always look miserable
Or is it only the Botox
They stick in their face to
Keep their looks from slipping
They’re kicking the can down the road
And men in mansions on cul-de-sacs
Having their midlife affairs
With the wife of a banker
While the banker is banging Bianca
But sadly they’re still gonna die

A guy buying Subway
Anxiously digs through his cabin bag
Smiles when his wallet is found
Pays for his six-inch
Then forgets that his bag is unzipped
So the contents of it is disgorged

And a jar of Viagra spills onto the ground
So it goes
Women in SUV Porsches always look miserable
And I know why they’re so sad
They thought they’d be happier than
They were in their Fords
But now they’re bored of their Porsches

And they’re looking for more
They’re out there shopping for more
And their husband’s so fat in
His new Lycra shorts
Trying to pedal his way back to ninety-four
Trying to wind back the clock to before
To before they had this boat and this house

And this buy-to let mortgage
To before they had bought all
The things that they thought
Would fill up the hole but
The goal keeps receding
And his hair is receding there’s this
Book he’s been reading for

Six months but the words just
Swim round the pages
And god it’s been ages since they made love
And the kids are on drugs
With their ADHD and their anxiety
And their music is shit
And the time just keeps slipping away
But, I’m sitting here playing and singing
And they are calling my name
Cos your flight’s gotta go when
Your flight’s gotta go
And I wrote this song on an airport piano