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Ginger had dyed her hair red to fit her name |
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Burny pocked his arms with a pack of Camel Lights |
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Long sleeves outdoors to keep the kids from crying |
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And Ginger climbed the high wire just to make them cheer |
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Trapeze float in a buttercup parade |
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With clowns and plastic parachutes, three red, the same |
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Clutched arms and fire dropped in a bar in New York city |
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It's not so far to go, oh, it's not so far to go to find trouble |
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Bus rattles downstairs, downtown flying |
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With a green seat empty and a window cracked |
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Sleeping Johnny snores, dreaming oceans and whores |
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All the while gluing tile on basement doors |
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He's Burny Arms brother, Ginger's other mate |
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Oh, it's too late to tap the till, money's gone |
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Arm holes and long locks, a house with nothing in it |
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Hmm, it's not so far to go to find trouble, ooh |
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The Lord, it's not so far to go to find trouble |
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Thousand mile handhold might keep the party still |
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If the holes heal well and the hair stays red |
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We'll climb another roof top and scare the crooks away |
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A gypsy and a singer in the bone yard |
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Yeah, walking the moonlight, losing the sign |
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Oh, sleeping Johnny wakes, doesn't know where he is |
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Bus stop in upstate, a bar in New York City |
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It's not so far to go, it's not so far to go, Lord, it's not so far |
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Yeah, I don't know, it's not so far to go to find trouble, no |
