March 1999 by Flying Stone
Verse 1
You look forward to a flight
Into a country where you
Never have been before
In the night before you leave
You pack your suitcase and you
Do not sleep a minute, you’re excited
Chorus
Oh, I cry, that is not fair
You were so happy ‚bout the
Chance to make that journey
That is not fair, my flat hand beats
On the sink in our bathroom
Where I stand and cry
Verse 2
Your passport, please
No harmless question
Because you had no visa, your
Friends had to depart without you
Within two days a heavy fight
Uncounted phone calls, a dangerous
Car trip, then you got it: your visa
Verse 3
Tired but happy, you take the phone
To call your family at home
To tell your story
And suddenly all your trouble
Not important any longer, your father
Struggling with the final night
© 1999 Flying Stone