I come from the tin pan valley and I'm moving right along I live on former glory, so long ago and gone I'm turning down the talk shows, the humour and the couch I'm moving up to higher ground - I've found a new way out These parasols and barbecues and loungers by the pool The late night conversations filled with twentieth-century cool My peers may flirt with cabaret - some fake the rebel yell Me, I'm moving up to higher ground - I must escape their hell Let me suspend my thirst for knowledge in your powder, sweat and sighs A grudge of Christian women - a stain of spotless wives A perfect destination inside a perfect world I take the bottle to the baby - you take the hammer to the pearl Like this - like this -- Every day's like Sunday, down here on memory lane Salad days and no good ways drive me quite insane A cocktail-clouded troubadour attempts to speak in tongues He's said enough - I'm through the door - I'm moving right along Like this - like this --
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