Wise men say,
It looks like rain today.
It crackled on the speakers,
And trickled down the sleepy subway trains.
For heavy eyes could hardly hold us,
Aching legs that often told us,
It’s all worth it:
We all fall in love sometimes.
And he’s got a question for everything
On windy nights like these his world’s on a string
Yes, he’s got a question for everything
He’s searching for wisdom but finds only fools
And the fool on the hill
Sees the sun going down
And the eyes in his head
See the world spinning 'round
What kind of fool am I
Who never fell in love
It seems that I’m the only one
That I have been thinking of…
Everybody plays the fool sometime
There’s no exception to the rule
Listen, baby, it may be factual, may be cruel
I ain’t lyin’, everybody plays the fool
Ooh, yeah, you’re amazing!
We think you are really cool.
We’d give you a part, my love,
But you’d have to play the fool.
Wow! Wow! Wow! Wow! Wow! Wow!
Unbelievable!
Why do fools fall in love?
Why do birds sing so gay
And lovers await the break of day
Why do they fall in love
Why does the rain fall from up above
Why do fools fall in love
Why do they fall in love
Listen to the rhythm of the falling rain,
Telling me just what a fool I’ve been.
I wish that it would go and let me cry in vain,
And let me be alone again.
Sometimes
I feel the ocean in my blood
See rain from the sky above
Her salt brined tears
And now
Those tears leave a taste on my tongue
Like the warm rush you get from
Black opium
Black opium
Momma was an opium-smoker
She light it with a red-hot poker
She would never take a bath
We would ask her - she’d just laugh
Because our momma was an opium-smoker
Son, Papa was a rolling stone
Wherever he laid his hat was his home
(And when he died)
All he left us was a loan
Home could be the Pennsylvania turnpike,
Indiana’s early morning dew,
High up in the hills of California,
Home is just another word for you.
Now the first of December was covered with snow
So was the turnpike from Stockbridge to Boston
The Berkshires seemed dream-like on account of that frosting
With ten miles behind me and ten thousand more to go
Stopped in the shade of a road sign
When the sun rose like a bomb
Tried to read the simple writing
But the letters came out wrong
It’s all white lines to me
Oh but things are getting clearer
I can almost read the writing in the mirror
I’m colorblind freeway tragedy
Pantone memory and grayscale eyes
Maybe I’m paranoid yeah that’s my problem
You almost have to be when you look like me
Now the boys all thought I’d lost my sense,
And telephone poles looked like a picket fence.
They said, “Slow down! I see spots!
The lines on the road just look like dots.”
Well, I looked on outta the window
And I started countin’ phone poles
Goin’ by at the rate of four to the seventh power.
Well, I put two and two together,
Added twelve and carried five,
And come up with twenty-two thousand telephone poles an hour.
-“BB”-
My pappy said, “Son, you’re gonna’ drive me to drinkin’
If you don’t stop drivin’ that Hot Rod Lincoln”
Have you heard this story of the Hot Rod race
When Fords and Lincolns was settin’ the pace
That story is true, I’m here to say
I was drivin’ that Model A
Now we’re doing a hundred and ten, it certainly was a race.
For a Rambler to pass a Caddy would be a big disgrace.
For the guy who wanted to pass me,
He kept on tooting his horn. Beep! Beep!
I’ll show him that a Cadillac is not a car to scorn.
If you’re on a highway and Road Runner goes beep beep.
Just step aside or you might end up in a heap.
Road Runner, Road Runner runs down the road all day.
Even the coyote can’t make him change his ways.
And when I hit the ground I was makin’ tracks
And they were jes’ takin’ my car down off the jacks
So I threw the man a twenty an’ jumped in an’ fired that mother up
Mario Andretti woulda sure been proud
Of the way I was movin’ when I passed that crowd
Comin’ out the door and headin’ toward me in a trot
An’ I guess I shoulda gone ahead an’ run
But somehow I couldn’t resist the fun
Of chasin’ them jes’ once around the parkin’ lot