What's the matter with your face? What's the matter with they way you talk? What you doing with that spoon? You should be eating with a knife and fork
I told my tale with some words From jail and a Bible vow But fear and fury were my judge and Jury so here I am now There was a letter A hundred letters
Mr. K comes out to play Inquisitive as ever He'd like to know a bunch of things He thinks you're pretty clever The height of Cyd Charisse The probability
Two-thirty on a Monday morning, I go No particular worry or care Down Santa Monica Boulevard, real slow Just to see if that lady's still there I don'
can never be sure When they're keeping the score You must always be ready to run I tense myself Waiting for the starting gun No time for fun Because I work
Sitting here feeding all these nimbers into my machine A number for every little thing I see I execute and they come dancing in Dresses black and green
Rise and greet the great pretender He's young and hungry for your crown Do you want it? Do yuo want my place? You can take my place Do you want it?
There are walls to keep the stranger out And doors that open wide Over here, over here Open spaces for a silent shout A place for you to hide Over here
There we were, living on our island in the sun Life was so easy, there was plenty for everyone 'Long come a white man who saw the milk and honey Now
I am a man with things to say Got the real thing here without a doubt My aim is true, I'm on my way And I know what life is all about I'll be around
