At the top of the social ladder, I speak. Let me welcome you here officially. To the back drop of martini clatter. Break the ice with superficial chatter.
Five guys take a ride, drive a day and half a night. Get to see some pretty scenery. But if that's all there is to this. This band would split right down the seams.
It's excruciating. I know you need to know where we stand. Is there harm in waiting?. Is this my only chance to take your hand?. . I'm torn in two by what I should or should not do.
I wrote this song today. Pool side at Flamingo Bay. Underneath the coconut trees. . This sun-baked symphony. A little ditty with a melody. Drifted to me on a summer breeze.
Wistful for disco. We get a little misty. Remembering Menu do. And all those old pros. The bay city rollers. And Pinky Tuscadero. . It must be our breeding.
I heard it from a friend who heard it from another. She said she liked the way I smiled at you in Monterey. I have more highs than lows and we could add them up.
From New York City to the Golden Gate. The Great Lakes to the Rio Grande. There's a hip new feeling, that we're awfully appealing. To the universal common man.
Listenin' to this. I'm transcending English. Something's bigger. Than the national hymn. . If you're thick, too thin. Green, blue or pinkish. Hum together with a cellophane skin.
Let's take a walk into the sky. Conversing with the stars to fathom why. They're not afraid to burn. To lose themselves while turning into light. . If we were lovers like we were meant to be.
When worlds collide. Then drift away. I will cling to the pieces. The ones that point at the way to go. More than anything I want You to know. . So here I am.
Could be she got lost. Or maybe she just watched a little too much TV. It's hard to say but anyway it's plain to see. And so she goes on like a drifting satellite but tonight.