William wakes with his clothes on
The morning call has been and gone
And he might
Not make the flight
But he will try.
Bit by bit, it comes back to him:
A bunch of Belgian businessmen
And a strange
Drinking game –
Oh God why?
Oh God why?
Why?

Come home Billy Bird, International Business Traveller.
Come home Billy Bird.

He hails a cab but the driver sucks.
He drives so slowly and he talks so much
That it hurts
Billy Bird’s
Aching brain.
He runs from the cab to the check-in desk
Well, she says “no way” but William begs
On his knees
“Please please please” –
“Well okay.”
Okay
Well okay.

Come home Billy Bird, International Business Traveller.
Come home Billy Bird.

Drenched in sweat he finds his seat
And with the luggage squeezed down beneath his feet
He begins
To think that things
Can’t get no worse.
But then a voice says “Bags that can’t be stowed
In the overhead lockers must go below
In the hold –
Please let go.
Thank you, Sir.”
Thank you, Sir.

Come home Billy Bird,
International Business Traveller.
Come home Billy Bird.
Come home
Come home William,
William
Come home.
Come home.

He runs on past the carousel
Screaming “damn my luggage all to Hell
I can buy
A new shirt and tie
Any day!”
He rides from the airport into town
To the highschool football ground
Where his son
Has just begun
His big football game.

Come home Billy Bird,
International Business Traveller.
Come home Billy Bird,
International Business Traveller.
Come home, Come home Come home Billy Bird,
Come home to where you once belong. International Business Traveller.
Come home Billy Bird.
Billy Bird.
Billy Bird.
Billy Bird.
Billy Bird.
Billy Bird.
Billy Bird.