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