| Go, go
|
| A-go, go
|
| A-go, go
|
| Go, go, go!
|
| Start the day for something
|
| Start the day at seven ten
|
| Waking for a living
|
| And the pattern starts again
|
| It’s avenue B, change at Tennessee
|
| Before the city begins to swell
|
| At seventy four, on the second floor
|
| Is where the telephone has my bell
|
| Echo, echo, echo, down the wire
|
| I can see, I can see
|
| Nothing else to be
|
| I can see, I can see
|
| Nothing else to be
|
| Only seven letters
|
| Only seven hours to go
|
| I begin to wonder now
|
| If there’s still a place below
|
| I file it away, handing in the tray
|
| So I can only be who I am
|
| Eleven fifteen, tapping the machine
|
| Until the calendar starts to jam
|
| Echo, echo, echo, down the wire
|
| I can see, I can see
|
| Nothing else to be
|
| I can see, I can see
|
| Nothing else to be
|
| Oh talking about
|
| Oh walking about
|
| We’ll go back to the sea
|
| And find what I’m about
|
| Oh, but I’ll never be someone again
|
| Oh, 'cause it happens all over again tomorrow
|
| Hit it, get it, make it, shake it
|
| Hit it, get it, make it, shake it
|
| Go, go, go, go! |