What's the Who cares? running everywhere, Running like chickens in the rain. Never mind the poultry, I'd rather at home I hope my old lady's feeling like a lazy Jane No one really I'm funny, Not the way that she She is stranger more fiction, definition. Why we go take a drive and why don't we take your car? Mine is nearly out of gas and nearly down. Lighter flame and cheap And wafting in the air a kiss and listen to the sound of falling rain Never your diet, I'd rather our guts funny faces on the windowpane We run, we run, we run And we're inside of this place The walls are the fun 'Cause stays in its space Huddled in the pilot's seat our are filled with Thimbledrome. We check the dash and turn the on. Never mind the man in We our own way home. We crush him and shoot into the sky. There's a baby on its way because of we do so much, Shooting like a comet from the end of space. Someday (I know which one) A pair of little feet come Creeping a monkey with a creepy little face And I will that monkey, spank that monkey, Spank that monkey if it out of line. And I will spank that monkey, spank monkey, And he'll thank me when I'm seventy-nine. We run, we run, we run And we're happy of this place. The are half the fun 'Cause stays in its space. Allow me to extend to you a invitation to Watch the wrinkles upon my face as I grow old. Christmastime and and all the days that lie between Hand in we'll watch as all the years unfold.