| You only got one finger left
|
| And it’s pointin' at the door
|
| And you’re takin' for granted
|
| What the Lord’s laid on the floor
|
| So I’m pickin' up the pieces
|
| And I’m puttin' them up for sale
|
| Throw your meal ticket out the window
|
| Put your skeletons in jail
|
| 'Cause Lord only knows it’s getting late
|
| Your senses are gone, so don’t you hesitate
|
| To give yourself a call, let your bottom dollars fall
|
| Throwing your two bit cares down the drain
|
| Invite me to the seven seas
|
| Like some seasick man
|
| You will do whatever you please
|
| And I’ll do whatever I can
|
| Titanic, fare thee well
|
| My eyes are turnin' pink
|
| Don’t call us when the new age
|
| Gets old enough to drink
|
| 'Cause Lord only knows it’s getting late
|
| Your senses are gone so don’t you hesitate
|
| You move on up the hill but there’s nothin' there left to kill
|
| Throwin' your two bit cares down the drain
|
| Yea
|
| Odelay, odelay, odelay, odelay, odelay
|
| Just passin' through
|
| Odelay, odelay, odelay, odelay
|
| (Yaa)
|
| Goin' back to Houston
|
| (Yaa)
|
| To the House Of Dance
|
| Goin' back to Houston
|
| (Yaa)
|
| To get me some pants |