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