Take me disappearing, through the smoke rings of my mind, down the foggy ruins of time.
I'll always thank the Lord when my working day is through, I get my sweet reward to be alone with you.
I am hanging in the balance of a perfect finished plan, like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand.
Either I'm too sensitive, or else I'm gettin' soft
I'm just glad to be feeling better. I really thought I'd be seeing Elvis soon.
She's a hypnotist collector; you are a walking antique.