What's the matter? Who People everywhere, Running like decapitated in the rain. mind the poultry, I'd rather stay at home I hope my old lady's feeling like a lazy Jane No one thinks I'm funny, Not the way she does She is stranger than fiction, definition. Why don't we go take a drive and why don't we take car? is nearly out of gas and nearly broken down. Lighter flame and cheap And incense in the air Steal a kiss and to the sound of falling rain mind your diet, I'd stuff our guts funny faces on the windowpane We run, we run, we run And we're happy of this place The are half the fun 'Cause anarchy in its space Huddled in the pilot's seat our are filled with Thimbledrome. We the dash and turn the motor on. mind the man in orange; We our own way home. We him flat and shoot into the sky. There's a baby on its way because of we do so much, Shooting like a from the other end of space. (I don't know which one) A pair of little feet will Creeping like a monkey a creepy little face And I will that monkey, spank that monkey, Spank that monkey if it out of line. And I will that monkey, spank that monkey, And he'll thank me when I'm seventy-nine. We run, we run, we run And we're inside of this place. The walls are the fun anarchy stays in its space. Allow me to extend to you a special to Watch the wrinkles form upon my as I grow old. Christmastime and and all the days that lie between in hand we'll watch as all the years unfold.