Congratulations Looks like you've finally made it, boy You're a real major-leaguer now Mama must be so, so, so proud The word around Is that your nest
to the numbers on my resume So I hope that you're impressed I did it all for you It's the best that I could do A little song and dance Can have its consequences
Please hang my raincoat I guess that I'll stay a while While I wait on the return It seems the distance you've made Has since lost its meaning Meanwhile
New years ago We drank and danced and left our sour hearts behind We sweetened for a kiss -- The kiss of a new year to come But those days are gone We
Let's get one thing straight: we don't have any answers We are proposals in a cosmic nursery And these massive stars -- they're just little twinkles
this So let's pretend our little songs are more than songs More like sermons Attention, attention That's all we're asking for Our little songs are our
when little fevers could flare up For ever day it's calm, there must be be something brewing There's always something storming through these evergreens
Wind blown A semi capsized in the storm Stranded The rains of June have cleansed it A baptism of sufferage Take two One man beneath a waning moon Still
Will anyone stop for us? Or will we be passed by Be passed on The day passes away The moment cracks along the sidewalk And we're alone Imagining what songs
get your attention I could never get your attention I could never please you Words so sympathetic -- symphonic, yet pathetic -- are tossed on to the song
the season Absentee... absentee... You're safe with me When summer's over will you dream of your crippled history Crippled history Crippled history Crippled history Absentee... When summer
congratulations you're a real major-leauger now the word around looks like you finally made it, boy is that your nest was too cozy mama must be so, so
Let's get one thing straight, we don't have any answers. We are proposals in a cosmic nursery, and these massive stars, they're just little twinkles,
let's pretend our little songs are more than songs More like sermons Attention, attention That's all we're asking for Our little songs are our little