Let’s take a walk,
Bottom the ocean,
I guess the sun chases down the tide,
And taxi cabs go rushing ‘round
Up in the world
You’ve had enough,
But you’ve had something,
And now there’s someone on the line,
Selling pages ripped from some holy book
The telephone
says you ain’t coming home
for you have found another boy,
and there’s nothing wrong with that, dear,
there’s nothing wrong,
no, nothing’s wrong
now counting cards
in South New Jersey,
and when Señor starts a-winking at the waitress who’s thinking that someone special lies awak for her in the middle of the night,
I shed my eyes,
I pinch my thighs,
Oh, how time flies
When you’ve no eyes
So sing it hard,
And play it hard, old boys,
As country burns in its own dumb might,
And sons of Jesus go spraypaint walls
And disappear into the night
And there’s disease,
There’s always hatred,
And there are all these weddings in the New York Times,
And at the end of the day, the toast is spilled but there’s still the wine
Alright.