| Lyrics: | Back in the old folky days
The air was magic when we played.
The riverboat was rockin' in
the rain;
Midnight was the time for the raid.
Oh, Isabela, proud Isabela,
They tore
you down and plowed you under.
You're only real with your make-up on;
How could I see you
and stay too long?
All along the Navaho Trail,
Burn-outs stub their toes on garbage
pails.
Waitresses are cryin' in the rain;
Will their boyfriends pass this way
again?
Oh, Mother Goose, she's on the skids;
The shoe ain't happy, neither are the
kids.
She needs someone that she can scream at;
And I'm such a heel for makin' her feel so
bad.
I guess I'll call it sickness gone;
It's hard to say the meaning of this
song.
An ambulance can only go so fast;
It's easy to get buried in the past
When you
try to make a good thing last.
I saw today in the entertainment section
There's room
at the top for private detection.
To Mom and Dad this just doesn't matter,
But it's either
that or pay off the kidnapper.
So all you critics sit alone;
You're no better than me for
what you've shown.
With your stomach pump and your hook and ladder dreams
We could get
together for some scenes.
I never knew a man could tell so many lies;
He had a
diff'rent story for ev'ry set of eyes.
How can he remember who he's talkin' to?
'Cause I
know it ain't me, and I hope it isn't you.
Well, I'm up in T.O. keepin' jive
alive,
And out on the corner it's half past five |
