Here in the house without windows, I've been a tourist for years

I see the sky through the chimney and it is the color of tears

Crying lessons, crying lessons, teach me a sad song

I will learn it until I turn it to a mantra I have chanted all along

Down by the bar at the airport, all of us strangers are friends

We take a shot for each takeoff and sob as the evening descends

If I could breathe underwater, I would be halfway back home

All of my bones would be liquid and never again would I roam

In the hotel with no numbers, I'm charged for each hour I sleep

I'm being watched through the keyhole and paid for each gallon I weep