I was on top of the world livin' high. It was right in my pocket. I was livin' the life. Things were just the way they should be. When from out of the sky like a bomb comes some little punk in a rocket.
Home again and the streets are not much cleaner. And the quaint old south side scenery. Is quaint no more. Just older than before. Go up the stairs and down the hallway.
Pretty little baby. How come you never come around?. Pretty little baby. How come you never come around?. I sent you all them pretty flowers. Now you're nowhere to be found.
Short people got no reason. Short people got no reason. Short people got no reason to live. . They got little hands. Little eyes. They walk around tellin' great big lies.
You're still the same girl, you always were. Still the same girl, you always were. . A few more nights on the street, that's all. A few more holes, in your arm.
In America you get food to eat. Won't have to run through the jungle. And scuff up your feet. You just sing about Jesus and drink wine all day. It's great to be an American.