| I was scrapin' bottom
|
| Groping in the dark
|
| It takes a crusty punk to really beat
|
| The mean streets of Medicine Park
|
| So I shifted left and out of town
|
| Then I clicked my heels and I doubled down to
|
| Blues Beach, I’m frying
|
| Sizzling in the merciful rays
|
| And it’s the long sad Sunday of the early resigned
|
| I went to Central Station
|
| To catch that early bus
|
| They were gassed and runnin' in every which way
|
| But unhappily not for us
|
| Here come Trina—the child bride
|
| I said hey pretty girl—can I cop a ride to
|
| Blues beach, it’s raining
|
| I’m chilling at the Manatee Bar
|
| Well it’s a stone soul picnic for the early resigned
|
| We can rent a paranymphic glider
|
| My hypothetical friend
|
| And we could sail away to the bending end
|
| Grab Big Dog a blanket
|
| Angel of my heart
|
| Things may get a whole lot worse
|
| Before suddenly falling apart
|
| Give your roommate Yvonne a ring
|
| 'Cause if she still wants in I gotta pull some strings
|
| On Blues Beach, I’m dying
|
| Freezin' in the merciful rays
|
| And it’s the long sad Sunday of the early resigned |