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I've been taking off and landing |
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But this airport's closed |
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And how much thicker this fog is gonna get |
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God only knows |
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Just when you think that you've got a grip |
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Reality sneaks off, it gives you the slip |
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As if you ever knew what it was |
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Takin' you down the lime |
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Tearing through the cotton fields and bus shelters |
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Of the South runnin' helter skelter |
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Down through the Mississippi Delta |
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With no place to call your own |
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Mixing up drinks with mixed feeling |
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All along the paint was peeling |
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Down to an Indian blanket on a pony |
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With no rider in the flesh and bone |
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Lookin' for his buffalo river home |
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I've been circling the wagons |
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Down at Time Square |
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Trying to fill up this hole in my soul |
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But nothing fits there |
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Just when you think you can let it rip |
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You're pounding the pavement in your daddy's wingtips |
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As if you had someplace else to go |
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Or a better way to get there |
|
Tearing through the cotton fields and bus shelters |
|
Of the South runnin' helter skelter |
|
Down through the Mississippi Delta |
|
With no place to call your own |
|
Mixing up drinks with mixed feeling |
|
All along the paint was peeling |
|
Down to an Indian blanket on a pony |
|
With no rider in the flesh and bone |
|
Lookin' for his buffalo river home |
|
Now there's only two things in life |
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But I forget what they are |
|
It seems we're either hangin' on a moonbeam's coattails |
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Or wishing on stars |
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Just when you think that you've been gyped |
|
The bearded lady comes and does a double back flip |
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And you run off and join the circus |
|
Yeah you just let that pony ride |
|
Tearing through the cotton fields and bus shelters |
|
Of the South runnin' helter skelter |
|
Down through the Mississippi Delta |
|
With no place to call your own |
|
Mixing up drinks with mixed feeling |
|
All along the paint was peeling |
|
Down to an Indian blanket on a pony |
|
With no rider in the flesh and bone |
|
Lookin' for his buffalo river home |
|
Lookin' for his buffalo river home |
