[intro: airport ambience, speaker announcement] Flight 404 to Paradise Bay is now boarding No livestock, no lawn damage, no mystery soil at security [spoken] Wait... is that ostrich pulling a hole? [verse 1: talk-sung, bright guitar skanks] At check-in stood an ostrich with sunglasses on his beak Dragging one black garden cart that squeaked with every squeak Inside it sat a soil block, packed square and brown With a perfect head-sized hollow in the middle of the ground He said, "This hole is coming with me, it keeps my panic low When the terminal gets noisy and my feathers lose their flow I put my head inside it, in my own familiar dirt Then my shoulders stop their wobble and my stomach doesn’t hurt" [pre-chorus: clerk voice, clipped rhythm] The clerk said, "Sir, support is real, and comfort has its place But forms require an animal in this airport space With fur or legs or paws, according to the laws A hole is just a hole, sir, and it does not meet the clause" [chorus: group shout, brass stabs] No hole on the plane, no hole on the plane That thing is not an animal, please don’t explain again He said, "When my head goes down, my panic gets controlled My beak belongs inside that exact familiar hole" No hole on the plane, no hole on the plane The clerk tapped the counter with a very tired vein "Sir, that is soil, and soil can’t sit in row three" The ostrich whispered, "Watch me solve this logically" [verse 2: bass bounces harder] His feathers started shivering, his knees began to knock His cart stood at the counter like a tiny garden block The pug in line had papers and a vest that fit him neat The ostrich had a dirt cube dropping crumbs around his feet He lowered down his long neck with a sad and careful dip Put his head into the hollow for a calming little trip But when he pushed in deeper, past the soil and airport sound He popped out by the taxis with his head still underground [break: brass riff, handclaps, suitcase percussion] [verse 3: lighter groove, comic discovery] He landed by a taxi stand beside a trash can lid Where a lonely homeless ant was doing what lost ants did No leaf, no crumb, no tunnel, not a grain of private land Just a cardboard sign that read, "Need room. Will carry sand." The ostrich blinked and pointed at his cart across the floor "My hole needs a resident, and you need a front door Move into my soil patch, bring your little ant ID Then you become my support animal, officially" [pre-chorus 2: rising comic triumph] The ant moved in with one crumb and a pebble for a chair Hung a tiny mailbox on the hole with proper care The ostrich rolled the cart back in and gave a proud report "I changed the setup, ma’am — my hole now has support" [bridge: stripped down, punchline pauses] The clerk checked the label The ant showed his lease The hole had a tenant The ant brought peace The clerk checked the rulebook Then checked it twice "Animal confirmed, sir But keep the soil nice" [spoken word] Please secure your ant during taxi, takeoff, and landing [final chorus: bigger brass, crowd vocals] No hole on the plane, no hole on the plane But now there’s an ant, so we’re playing a different game He said, "When my head goes down, my panic gets controlled And my support ant lives inside my support hole" No hole on the plane, no hole on the plane But the ant has a lease and a government name The cart rolled forward, the boarding line cheered The strangest vacation had finally cleared [outro: tropical groove fading, cart wheels rolling, speaker announcement] Passenger Ostrich, Support Ant, and approved soil-based habitat Please proceed to gate nineteen No loose dirt in the aisle No digging during takeoff [spoken] And sir... please stop calling it first class compost [end]
