Off to the airport to check in the bags
Proud of my suntan and good times I`ve had
Laying on beaches and writing out cards
Back to the humdrum and bashing out cars
Into the aircraft I look for my seat
A nervous tension builds inside me
Onto the runway I pretend I`m elsewhere
In minutes we`re flying through the hot evening air
Down there toy town the twinkle of lights
The long white beaches of holiday time
Suddenly someone has pulled out a gun
His shout for attention has everyone stunned
Hands on our heads there`s a new kind of fear
We`re over the barrel with the hits of the year
Held up to ransom assured we`ll be safe
The yellow ribbon comes out again
How many gods can there be in one sky
All so important and all so involved
Here on a trigger a disciple of fear
As we wait without knowing if we`re hits of the year