| That reminds me of the time I felt
|
| It’s time for sin and catholic guilt
|
| Two years later to the day
|
| I had reason to confess
|
| With her hair a shining shade
|
| Of bus-conductress blond
|
| Tales of music and movement
|
| Were told in grip and groan
|
| But to put these thoughts in songs like theirs
|
| Of the honest truth there’d be no trace
|
| Just lying out loud
|
| Meanwhile, I’m back here in wonderland
|
| A sorry sight with flowers in hand
|
| Pours his heart out till his thirst
|
| For college girls is satisfied
|
| Standing there with ego
|
| Proudly on tiptoe
|
| All the time I’m thinking
|
| Well, well, here we go
|
| Another perfect song of greed
|
| Brings the house down to its knees
|
| By dying out loud
|
| One more awful dancer
|
| Steptoe’s son, a song and dance of love
|
| When I think of soap operas
|
| And what makes them so popular
|
| The answer’s posing
|
| In front of my eyes
|
| Here comes our hero
|
| In 'Hand-me-downs'
|
| And he’s strutting to the strain
|
| Of 'Send in the clowns'
|
| And troops his true colors
|
| When no one’s around
|
| And his desktop tales
|
| Are the best around but
|
| Putting pain to paper reads
|
| Like a lunge at fame and greed
|
| Just crying out loud, yeah
|
| Yeah, yeah, yeah
|
| Yeah, yeah, yeah |