|
Hey, look out for my glass up there, man! |
|
That's my drink, man, that's my drink, alright... |
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Make it a double, or eh... |
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Somebody has to sing |
|
Some body will sing? |
|
Somebody will sing, right? |
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Y'all pass me that bottle, |
|
And I'll sing you all a real song |
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Yeah! |
|
Let me get my key, ahum! |
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Well, I'm looking through Harlem |
|
my stomach squeal just a little more |
|
A stagecouch full of feathers and footprints, |
|
pulls up to soap-box door |
|
Now a lady with a pearl-handled necktie |
|
Tied to the driver's fence |
|
breathes in my face, |
|
bourbon and coke possessed words |
|
Haven't I seen you somewhere in hell, |
|
or was it just an accident?" |
|
(You know how I felt then, and so) |
|
Before I could ask "was it the East or West side?" |
|
my feet they howled in pain |
|
The wheels of a bandwagon cut very deep, |
|
but not as deep in my mind as the rain |
|
And as they pulled away I could see her words |
|
Stagger and fall on my muddy tent |
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Well I picked them up, brushed them off, |
|
to see what they say, |
|
and you wouldn't believe: |
|
'Come around to my room, with the tooth in the middle, |
|
and bring along the bottle and a president' |
|
And eh sometimes it's not so easy, baby |
|
Especially when your only friend, |
|
talks, sees, looks and feels like you, |
|
and you do just the same as him |
|
(Gets very lonely up this road, baby) |
|
(Yeah, hmmm, yeah) |
|
(Got more to say!) |
|
Well I'm riding through LA, |
|
on a bicycle built for fools |
|
And I seen one of my old buddies |
|
And he say, "you don't look the way you usually do" |
|
I say, "well, some people look like a coin-box" |
|
He say, "look like you ain't got no coins to spare" |
|
And I laid back and I thought to myself, and I said this: |
|
I just picked up my pride from underneath the pay phone, |
|
and combed this breath right out of my hair |
|
And sometimes it's not so easy |
|
Especially when your only friend |
|
talk, sees, looks and feels like you, |
|
and you do just the same as him |
|
just got out of a Scandinavian jail, |
|
and I'm on my way straight home to you |
|
But I feel so dizzy I take a quick look in the mirror, |
|
to make sure my friend's here with me too |
|
And you know good well I don't drink coffee, |
|
so you fill my cup full of sand |
|
And the frozen tea leaves on the bottom |
|
Sharing lipstick around the broken edge |
|
And my coat that you let your dog lay by the fire on |
|
And your cat he attacked me from his pill-box ledge |
|
And I thought you were my friend too |
|
Man, my shadow comes in line before you |
|
I'm finding out that it's not so easy |
|
Specially when your only friend |
|
Talks, looks, sees and feels like you, |
|
and you do the same just like him |
|
(Lord it's so lonely here, hmmm, yeah) |
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Yeah! |
|
(Pass me that bottle over there...) |
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Yeah, yeah, okay... |
