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Now |
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I'm wakin' at the crack of dawn |
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to send a little money home |
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from here to the moon |
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is risin' like a discotheque |
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and now my bags are down and packed for traveling |
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Lookin' at happiness |
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keepin' my flavor fresh |
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nobody knows I guess |
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how far I'll go, I know |
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so I'm leavin' at Six O' Clock |
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meet in a parkin' lot |
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Harriet Hendershot |
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sunglasses on, she waits by this |
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Glass and concrete and stone |
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It is just a house, not a home. |
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Skin, that covers me from head to toe |
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except a couple tiny holes and openings |
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Where, the city's blowin' in and out |
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this is what it's all about, delightfully |
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Everything's possible |
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when you're an animal |
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not inconceivable |
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How things can change, I know |
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So I'm puttin' on aftershave |
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nothin' is out of place |
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gonna be on my way |
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Try to pretend, it's not only |
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Glass and concrete and stone |
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That it's just, not a home. |
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And its glass and concrete and stone |
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It is just a house, not a home |
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And my head is fifty feet high |
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Let my body and soul be my guide |
