Tin Pan Valley

I come from tin pan valley and I'm movin' right along

I live on former glory, so long ago and gone

I'm turnin' down the talk shows, the humor and the couch

I'm movin' up to higher ground, I've found a new way out

There's parasols, and barbecues, and loungers by the pool

The late night conversations filled with twentieth century cool

My beers may flirt with cabaret, some fake the rebel yell

Me, I'm movin' up to higher ground, I must escape their hell

Let me suspend my thirst for knowledge

In your powder, sweat, and sighs

A grudge of Christian women, a stain of spotless wives

A perfect destination inside a perfect world

I take the bottle to the baby, you take the hammer to the pearl

Like this

Oh, like this

Oh, like this

Oh, like this

Every day's like Sunday down here on memory lane

Salad days and no good ways can drive me quite insane

A cocktail clouded troubadour attempts to speak in tongues

He's said, "Enough, I'm through the door, I'm movin' right along"

Long, long, long, like this

Oh, like this

Oh, yeah, like this

Oh, like this

Oh, like this

Like this