When you’re a Jet
You’re the swingin’est thing:
Little boy, you’re a man;
Little man, you’re a king!
I have stood here before inside the pouring rain
With the world turning circles running 'round my brain
I guess I’m always hoping that you’ll end this reign
But it’s my destiny to be the king of pain
If I Were King Of The Forest
Not queen, not duke, not prince.
My regal robes of the forest would be satin
Not cotton, not chintz.
I’d command each thing, be it fish or fowl
With a woof and a woof, and a royal growl.
She’s a Killer Queen
Gunpowder, gelatin
Dynamite with a laser beam
Guaranteed to blow your mind
Anytime
He blew his mind out in a car,
He didn’t notice the lights had changed…
I’ve cried so many times and that’s no lie;
It seems to make you laugh each time I cry.
Didn’t I blow your mind this time, didn’t I?
Didn’t I blow your mind this time, didn’t I?
Empty stomach, empty head
I got empty heart and empty bed
I don’t remember
I don’t remember
I don’t remember, I don’t recall
I got no memory of anything at all
Try to remember the kind of September,
When life was slow and oh so mellow.
Try to remember the kind of September,
When grass was green and grain was yellow.
Try to remember the kind of September,
When you were a tender and callow fellow.
Summer has come and passed
The innocent can never last
Wake me up when September ends
Like my fathers come to pass
Seven years has gone so fast
Wake me up when September ends
It’s late September,
I really should be back at school…
See you in September,
See you when the summer’s through,
Here we are,
Saying goodbye at the station,
Summer vacation
Is taking you away.
Summer lovin’ had me a blast…
Hot town, summer in the city,
Back of my neck getting dirty and gritty.
Been down, isn’t it a pity,
Doesn’t seem to be a shadow in the city.
His father works some days for fourteen hours
And you can bet he barely makes a dollar
His mother goes to scrub the floors for many
And you’d best believe she hardly gets a penny
Living just enough, just enough for the city yeah
Penny Lane there is a barber showing photographs
Of every head he’s had the pleasure to know
Welcome to my shop
Let me cut your mop
Let me shave your crop
Daintily, daintily
Hey, you!
Don’t look so perplexed
Why must you be vexed?
Can’t you see you’re next?
Yes, you’re next, you’re so next!
Flow it, show it, as long as God can grow it,
My Hair…
And he said grow some funk of your own amigo
Grow some funk of your own
We no like to with the gringo fight
But there might be a death in Mexico tonight
We were drinkin’ like the end was not in sight
And we drank all afternoon
We asked the world to wait so we could celebrate
A gringo honeymoon
It was a teenage wedding, and the old folks wished them well
You could see that Pierre did truly love the mademoiselle
And now the young monsieur and madame have rung the chapel bell
“C’est la vie”, say the old folks, it goes to show you never can tell