Live / Backstage @ the Coffee Gallery (2006)

“Thank you, thank you.”

Well, it’s hard on an easy rider
Hard on an easy ride
Well, it’s hard on the heels of whatever is up ahead
Hard on the wheels of a rider’s head

Yes, it’s hard
Easy rider, whoa, ride
You easy rider, whoa, ride

Did you see that easy rider?
Ridin’ all the while
You can tell that easy rider
His arm is on his side

Yes, it’s hard
Easy rider, whoa, ride
You easy rider, whoa, ride

Rider, he won’t stay
He can make it your way
But you wish you were an easy rider too

Easy rider, whoa, ride
You easy rider, whoa, ride

[break]

Yes, it’s hard
Easy rider, whoa, ride
You easy rider, whoa, ride

Did you see that easy rider?
Did you hear what the rider said?
Well, {he played amongst our spirits}
And they danced all around his head

Yes, it’s hard
Easy rider, whoa, ride
You easy rider, whoa, ride
You easy rider, whoa, ride
You easy rider, whoa, ride
Easy rider, whoa, ride
You easy rider

James: Is that right?
Peter: That’s what it says there.
James: I’m ready. This is a song that I wrote about a little Dutch girl I met in a bar in Santa Monica. Or else Jesus, the principal deity of all the world’s Christians. Or maybe both. Or neither.

Better choose, all my friends keep tellin’ me
Better do what’s good for you
Well, they don’t know the demon that’s inside of me
Without you, I’d lose my way

Yeah, all I ever wanted, you give me
All I ever wanted, you are
All I ever wanted, without you
Would leave me with an empty heart

I love you, and I love the mystery
What you do, it still holds for me
That ain’t news, it’s just the same old history
Without you, I’d lose my way

Yeah, all I ever wanted, you give me
All I ever wanted, you are
All I ever wanted, without you
Would leave me with an empty heart

Oh, I lose my way on crowded streets
Out of time, can’t feel the beat
I’m blinded by the neon night
’Til once again, I’m in the shadow of your sight

I love you, I love the mystery
What you do, ah babe, it still holds for me
But that ain’t news, just the same old history
Without you, I’d lose my way

Ooh, all I ever wanted, you are
Ooh, all I ever wanted, you fill my heart

Yeah, all I ever wanted, you give me
All I ever wanted, you are
All I ever wanted, without you
Would leave me with an empty heart

James: Maybe you could amuse them while I—
Peter: Ha ha ha. Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh.
James: The pressure’s on!
Peter: Uh, um, how do you make a whale float? A whale, a little ice cream, lots of root beer.
[crowd groans]
James: Well, never mind. Ha ha ha ha.
Peter: Ha ha ha ha. Gee, James. It’s the best I could come up with under pressure like that.
James: So what’s the next song?
Peter: Um, oh, we’re gonna do this, this was in fact—
James: A song we were gonna write.
Peter: But Paul Simon beat it to it so.
James: It was a [???].
Peter: It was the theme song to a movie we were going to make—
James: That’s right.
Peter: But Paul Simon made the movie before.
James: Yes, he did that too.
Peter: He was kind of cold-blooded that way actually. I never noticed that about him.
James: This is called “One Sick Stony”. It’s about a druggie.
Peter: “One Sick”. Let’s see. One, two.

One trick pony, one trick is all that horse can do
One trick only, it’s the principal source of his revenue

But when he steps into the spotlight, you can feel the heat of his heart come shining through

See how he dances
See how he moves from side to side
See how he prances
See how his hooves just seem to glide

He’s just a one trick pony, that’s all he is
But he turns that trick with pride

Moves so easy, moves so clean
Looks like God’s immaculate machine
He makes me think about all of these extra moves I make, oh
This herky jerky motion and the bag of tricks it takes
To get me through my working day
One trick pony

Just a one trick pony, that’s all he is

Moves so easy, moves so clean
Looks like God’s immaculate machine
He makes me think about all of these extra moves I make, oh
This herky jerky motion and the bag of tricks it takes
To get me through my working day
One trick pony

One trick pony, one trick is all that pony needs
He gives his testimony, then he relaxes in the weeds
He’s just a one trick pony, that’s all he is
But that’s all that pony needs

James: I appreciate you coming out this evening. I know driving in Los Angeles isn’t fun. I’ve always thought that there simply are too many people on the roads these days. There should be more requirements, don’t you agree? Something like a reflex test perhaps. Or an IQ test. Something where you can tell the people that—I see, okay, so. I’ll do a little song now.

James: The Chinese say that if you live long enough, everything will happen to you. Sounds like a suck reason for sticking around, doesn’t it? But I got to thinking about it ’cause those Chinese people are deep. You know, they invented topiary. You know, that’s where you plant the tree, and your grandson carves it into an elephant. I mean, they’re thinking long, you know what I mean? We’re thinking like, when am I gonna get that burger? And I realize that if we’re gonna live a long time, and everything is gonna happen to us, then at some point in time, in our own time, we’re gonna be the hero, we’re also gonna be the goat, we’re gonna be the victim, we’re gonna be the perpetrator, the betrayer, and the betrayed, and if we’re gonna be all these things, each and every one of us, then maybe we can find it in our hearts to be a little bit more kind, a little bit more understanding, a little bit more patient with each other, you know. So I wrote this song about a lady in Baltimore I heard about who was clearly more evolved than me. It’s called “Daddy’s Eyes”.

You’re lucky to be alive, says stranger all in white
Be surprised how many times this happens in the night
The real surprise was waiting for me nine months down that road
Brought you in for me to see
I felt my future unfold
As I wrap my arms around you
To soothe your gentle cry
And you looked straight up at me
You had your daddy’s eyes

You got your daddy’s eyes
I’m not likely to forget
And every time you look at me
That night comes back, and yet
Cannot help but love you
Can’t help but be surprised
By all the pain that brought you here
You got your daddy’s eyes

Though days have turned the weeks to years
This pain, time will not heal
Sometimes, when you look at me
I know I can’t conceal
The memory of that brutal night
But now, I never try
What matters is the love we share
And you got your daddy’s eyes

You got your daddy’s eyes
I’m not likely to forget
And every time you look at me
That night comes back, and yet
Cannot help but love you
Can’t help but be surprised
By all the pain that brought you here
You got your daddy’s eyes

The Lord works in mysterious ways
No man can understand
We must have faith in the seeds that grow
From the fruit of the master’s plan

There is a plant, there is a garden, there is a reason too
For every life, every pain, every one of you
Wonder what we’re doing here
We sift for truth through lies
Look carefully, and you will find
We’ve all got daddy’s eyes
We’ve all got daddy’s eyes
We’ve all got daddy’s eyes

James: Thank you very much for that. It’s called “Daddy’s Eyes”. It’s off of my Domino Harvest album. It’s also one of the songs in the musical I wrote, Sex and the Single Mom. You laugh, but it’s coming out next year.
Person in crowd: One act play?
James: No, actually it’s three acts. I have a lot of stamina. Been on the Atkins diet. I really have. Somebody sent me a video of one of my shows, and my wife had been saying, you know, James, you’re putting on a little weight there on your belly there, and I went no, no, I look great, I’m 57, I look just fine, you know. So I get this video, and I thought, mother of God, Alfred Hitchcock stole my guitar. I appreciate that. About what time is it right now? Okay, about forty years ago, I was working with a fake ID in this bar and met this [???] musician, Peter Thorkelson, and we became fast friends, and it’s forty years later, and he’s still one of my favorite people on the planet. Would you please join me in welcoming my dearest friend, Mr. Peter Tork.

Peter: James Lee Stanley! Thank you. I had a cable. Is that as loud as James’ guitar was?
Crowd: No. Yes. Yes. No. Maybe.
Peter: I’m glad you all speak with one mind.

There’s a story going ’round
Some folks have not heard it yet
Well, you get what you pay for
And you pay for what you get, yeah

This is what I’m hearing
As I hang out on the set
Well, you get what you pay for
And you pay for what you get, yeah

Whoa, children
Please don’t forget
You get what you pay for
And you pay for what you get, yeah, mm

Now you’re hangin’ from the trapeze of life by one finger
And you’re slippin’, and you’re prayin’ for a net
Well, you get what you pray for
And you pay, pay, pay for what you get

Whoa, children
Please, please, please don’t forget
Get what you pay for
And you pay for what you get, yeah, my pet

Whoa
For the last time now, please don’t forget, remember this
You get what you pay for
And you pay for what you get, yeah, my pet

Peter: Thank you. Well, that woke me up. I don’t know about you.

Peter: Sound effects free of charge. I haven’t pulled out the old banjo for a long time.

[instrumental]

Peter: So uh.

Peter: This is actually, I think this is pretty nearly an authentic—when I was a kid doing this stuff in shops not much smaller than this, we called what I’m about to do “folk music”, because it was written by some folk, as opposed to, of course, there’s a great famous old blues singer named Big Baboonsy. Somebody asked him if he was doing folk music, he said, “I can’t imagine a horse had anything to do with this”. So it falls under that category, but only by contrast because nowadays, when people say “folk music”, they usually mean what James and I are doing, what James is doing, was doing earlier, and what I was doing earlier and will do again, which is basically singer-songwriter with a single guitar, or a couple of people singing with guitars together. Folk only now means singer-songwriter with acoustic guitars, and maybe drums and bass on the records, but this next thing that I’m going to do is a real folk song.

Well, the cuckoo, she’s a pretty bird
And she warbles as she flies
And she never hollers, “Cuckoo”
’Til the fourth day of July

Well, she brings us glad tidings
And she tells us no lies
And she never hollers, “Cuckoo”
’Til the fourth day of July

Jack of diamonds, jack of diamonds
Well, I know you of old
You have robbed my, my poor pockets
Of their silver and their gold

Gonna build me a log cabin
On a mountain so high
So that I can see my darling
As that poor girl rides on by

Gonna build me pretty cuckoo
And she warbles as she flies
And she never hollers, “Cuckoo”
’Til the fourth day of July

Peter: Thank you.

Peter: Here’s another thing about folk music. Ouch. Retuning, I caught my finger in the capo.
Crowd: Aww!
Peter: Well, thank you! Damn, if I’d known you were gonna be so sympathetic, I would have hurt myself earlier.

Well, I married a wife in the month of June
Married her up by the light of the moon
We live down on Cripple Creek
We’ve been down there about a week

I’m a-goin’ down to Cripple Creek, I’m goin’ on a run
I’m a-goin’ down to Cripple Creek to have a little fun
Goin’ down to Cripple Creek, I’m goin’ on a whirl
Goin’ down to Cripple Creek to see my girl

Well, Cripple Creek girls is about half grown
Jump on a man like a dog on a bone
Roll my britches up to my knees
Gonna cross on Cripple Creek a-when I please

I’m a-goin’ down to Cripple Creek, I’m goin’ on a run
Goin’ down to Cripple Creek to have a little fun
Goin’ down to Cripple Creek, I’m goin’ on a whirl
I’m a-goin’ down to Cripple Creek to see my girl

Peter: Thank you.

Peter: Okay, what time is it? Okay, about forty years ago… ha ha ha ha ha. My very good friend of extremely long standing, Mr. James Lee Stanley, ladies and gentlemen.
James: Don’t get up, really. You probably noticed by now, I’m a solo performer. Sometimes that’s wonderful, like tonight. Sometimes it sucks, you know, like when you outnumber the audience. Which I’m sorry to say has happened. Uh, but most the time, it’s pretty great, and because I’m a solo performer, I get invited to a lot of places that I think wouldn’t happen if I were like a seventeen-piece funk horn band, you know. Being a solo performer, perfect strangers feel comfortable inviting me into their homes, and I get invited to a lot of parties. I got invited to a party thrown by some flight attendants in Chicago. I like flight attendants. I do. They’re clean, punctual people, and I think, I think that’s important. So I went to the party, and uh, I was the only person at the party not employed by the airlines. As you know, when people work together in some sort of insular fashion, such as the airlines, a vernacular unique to the workplace evolves, and uh, and that’s certainly the case with the airlines. So, if you don’t work for the airlines, you may not know what they’re talking about. Thank you. So when you’re working for the airlines, and you have this language, and you don’t work for the airlines, you may not know what they’re talking about. Now, I—well, if you have a somewhat immature, silly, teenage, childish view on sex, some sort of arrested development kind of, lame, high school humor such as I do, uh, you may find yourself at odd ends with this vernacular. You know, I know this is stupid. This is genuinely stupid, and I recognize it as such. It does not change a thing. If I’m at one of these parties with the flight attendants, and they’re talking about doing a layover, I start laughing, you know. I mean, it’s lame, it’s lame, it’s lame, but I start giggling. If they’re doing a turnaround in Detroit, I’m intrigued. I’m just like, I’m there for that stuff. I just find it really amusing. It was when they got to deadheading that I felt perhaps I was out of my element so. Thank you both. So, I, uh, I drifted over to a corner and began to drink. I had, I don’t know, fifty-five, sixty beers, and uh, I realized I was actually sloshing whenever someone stepped on me. So, I went off to find the bathroom. Now, I don’t know what the bathroom looks like in your homes, but I’m a musician, and I have been in some pretty funky bathrooms in my time, you know. Some bathrooms that you can’t believe what kind of surreal funk. Now, I’ve been in bathrooms where the shower curtain had something growing on it that evidently they couldn’t kill, some blue green thing, living thing that actually turned black in the summer and opaque, I guess, and had a [???] bouquet, I must say. And I’ve been in places where the towels have actually gone down in the corner wet, and have evolved into a lower life form, you know. It’s peculiar to be looking in the mirror and to see the towels undulating. You look at them, they’re still, but you look away, you look back. It’s very peculiar. And of course, there’s the orange tear duct where the water’s dripping. There’s the bar of soap stuck to the sink, little curly hairs in the soap, you know, we’re talking, we’re talking, I’m telling you, we’re talking funkdom supreme here. You can go in these bathrooms, be as disgusting as you want. Feel okay about yourself. Feel like you’re not out of place. Well, the bathroom in this flight attendant’s condo was a shrine. Clear plastic shower curtain, not a water spot on it. Chandelier in the bathroom. Crystal chandelier in the bathroom. Mirrors on the walls and ceiling so you could watch yourself in a variety of angles while you did it, into eternity. Designer towels that came from God to the wall, accompanied by a sign that said, “Please don’t use the designer towels”. She had paper towels for us, but the designer towels were just to look at, I guess. You go into the bathroom and watch the designer towels when cable goes out. I don’t know what, you know. And she had a simulated marble sink. There was a brass pedestal. In the brass pedestal, a bar of soap that had never ever been wet. You have to ask yourself, what is this bathroom for? What is going on? And she had blue shag rug all over the floor of the bathroom, and I suppose, by way of continuing the integrity of the design, she brought the blue shag rug up around the bowl of the toilet, over the tank of the toilet, over the top of the tank of toilet, over the lid of the toilet, and around the seat of the toilet. It looked like a Muppet toilet, you know. “Sit down, James”. You know, right, I’m really going to sit on the Cookie Monster’s face. I don’t think so. Cookie! No, no, no thanks, not a chance. And you know what, while we’re on the subject of toilets, ’cause I don’t have much time, I’ll get this all over with at once, because I don’t actually believe that women ponder the way men uh, do it. So I’m gonna share this with you. I’m gonna enlighten you in this area, and it will help the understanding of the sexes. It will help us communicate with each other, hands across the water, if you will. So here’s what we do. I promise to be tasteful. We approach the facility from an erect position. One we maintain throughout the act. We’re talking number one, of course. We raise the lid, we put it back against the tank, and then we commence. Now, this works with supreme efficiency in my bathroom, but when you ladies go to the trouble of upholstering your tank and your toilet and your lid and your, then the lid and the seat, they stay up there, two maybe three seconds, just until we are irrevocably involved in what we’re doing, see, and then FWOP! This thing comes snappin’ down at you. AAAH! You leap out of the way. It’s a completely involuntary survival instinct kind of a thing, you know what I mean. Cookie Monster lunges for your loins? Run away! You just run away. You don’t think about it. Run away! You just run away. Now who, I ask you, who could be accurate when they’re sprinting across a bathroom? So while I was using her Maxi 4000 to blow dry the lid, and the seat there, and the tank, and the top of the tank, and the designer towels, and the mirror, and the chandelier, and the shower curtain, simulated marble sink, the brass pedestal, and the bar of soap that had finally gotten wet, I got a idea for a love song.

Racing the moon
We had nothing but time
We were racing the moon
With our hearts on the line
Hearts on the line
Holdin’ our breath
Racing the moon
And scared to death

She was sixteen that summer night
We stole the keys, we took a ride
We were livin’ in her daddy’s car with the top down
The radio roarin’
Faster, she said, faster
And it was over too soon
Racing the moon
Racing the moon

Racing the moon
Racing the moon

These things I never understand
Inside a woman or a man
What we’re chasing when we run so hard with the top down
Radio roarin’
Faster, we go faster, faster
Still it’s over too soon
Racing the moon

All the way
All the way
Anyway we can
All the way
All the way
Anyway we can

And now it’s down to me and you
Is this what we are gonna do?
We’re cruisin’ in a stolen car with the top down
And the radio roarin’
Faster, do we go faster and faster?
Until it’s over too soon
Too soon
Racing the moon
Racing the moon
Racing the moon
Racing the moon

Racing the moon
We had nothing but time
We were racing the moon with our hearts on the line
Hearts on the line
Holding our breath
Racing the moon and scared to death

We were living in her daddy’s car with the top down
Radio roarin’
Faster, she said, faster
And it was over
It was over too soon

James: Thank you.

James: Thank you.

Well, surprise, surprise
Looking into your eyes
To see so far away
Right in my own backyard
To have visions like this
Not be so hard to come by
To see why a word in a kiss
Can take the world away

Even though you haven’t taken to Paris or Rome
You’re never gonna catch me sayin’ that
You, you never take me anywhere
’Cause the places you’ve been takin’ me to are
Way, way closer to home
And I don’t know where I’m going, but wherever it is

You take me there
You take me there
And every day this wild winter stays
To rattle our windows
The hotter the sand
On this beach where we run

The bluer the skies
The greener the billows
The whiter the strand
The brighter the sun

Even though you haven’t taken to Paris or Rome
You’re never gonna catch me sayin’ that
You, you never take me anywhere
’Cause the places you’ve been takin’ me to are
Way, way closer to home
And I don’t know where I’m going, but wherever it is

You take me there
You take me there

Here’s what Mr. Chuang-Tzu has to say about home towns. If your life is true, you don’t have to go far to find heaven and earth on the rim of your doorway. To have ocean and sky wherever you are.

Even though you haven’t taken to Paris or Rome
You’re never gonna catch me sayin’ that
You, you never take me anywhere
’Cause the places you’ve been takin’ me to are
Way, way closer to home
And I don’t know where I’m going, but wherever it is

You take me there
You take me there
There
There
There

James: Thank you. Thank you very much.

Peter: Mr. James Lee Stanley, ladies and gentlemen.

Peter: Dreamy this new [???]. Just absolutely, just, boy.

Woman I love
Took her from my best friend
Some joker got lucky
Stole her back again
But she better come home in my kitchen
Because it’s goin’ to be rainin’ outdoors

My mama’s dead
Papa’s well to be
Ain’t got nobody
To care for me
But she’d better come home in my kitchen
Because it’s goin’ to be rainin’ outdoors

[break]

Went to the mountain
Far as I could see
Some man got my woman
Lonesome blues got me
But she’d better come home in my kitchen
Because it’s goin’ to be raining outdoors

Peter: Well, thanks-a too much for that.
James: Thanks-a too much. I used to be Italian you know. My mom moved to Texas and became a born again Christian. Took all—
Peter: Italian went right out the window.
James: Took all the plastic {fountains} right off the walls. It was—
Peter: All the plastic Jesuses and all the plastic saints—
James: No, there’s plastic Jesuses everywhere.
Peter: Oh yeah. What about the saints, the plastic saints?
James: Matter of fact, I have a brief story about Jesus. I’ll try to be brief. When I was a little boy in my Catholic Italian parents—grandparents—
Peter: So like, when he was about four—
James: It’s true, I was about four, and uh—
Peter: Jesus, I mean.
James: No, no, my—
Peter: Oh, you? Okay.
James: Jesus was in fact, already a, an icon at this point, and I was just a mere four years old, and I was staying with my Italian from the old country, and my grandmother had the goriest, goriest, bloodiest crucifix you have ever seen. It was, they used to have these crucifix where you could see intestines hanging out of Jesus, you know, I’m not kidding, it was scary, you could see the nails, and it was just really scary, and uh all the children got together and bought her a PC crucifix, you know, where Jesus just has a couple of Band-Aids placed, just, you know, here and there, and uh, and that was the new crucifix. So they took the old crucifix, which—
Peter: And actually, he was just sort of reclining with his feet—
James: And this, he was like three and a half feet long, the old crucifix. So they hid it under the bed, this enormous crucifix. So I’m staying with my grandparents, it’s the middle of the night, the full moon is shining in the window. I wake up because there are monsters in the carpet and snakes, and I knew that if I was gonna be killed, and I was, and so I thought I will just go to my grandparents bed, but then I realized the monsters were in the carpet and the snakes, so I couldn’t actually step on the carpet. So my plan was to just very carefully leap from the little day bed I had on to my grandparents’ bed and be safe from the monsters and the snakes. So as I got ready to leap, I noticed that the moonlight was coming in through the window and shining on a bloody white hand. I hit my grandparents’ bed at about a hundred miles an hour, shrieking, AAAAH! You know, my grandparents both died on the spot, just from ahh, you know, just it was, to this day, I have a hard time going to church. I just have a hard time with it. Jesus scared me to death. So, and that’s what this song is about. It’s called “Easy Rockin’”.
Peter: No, it isn’t. We’re not doing that one. We’re doing this other one.
James: Oh, we’re not doing “Easy Rockin’”?
Peter: Ha ha ha ha.
James: Oh, my brother, my droog, what’s the next song? It’s “Hi, Hi Babe”?
Peter: Yep, I think so. [???] Yep, that’s right.
James: I’m fearless. Let me add it. Let’s sink our teeth on “Hi, Hi Babe”.
Peter: A song I wrote um, one of those songs that you write when you think about, boy, it really did happen this way, and you’re thinking, oh man. Mm, two, a-one, two three four.

I packed her clothes up in a box
I changed the phone, and I changed the locks
I’ll be sittin’ here when she knocks
And I’ll say, “Hi, hi, hi, hi babe
Well, you do look good to me
Hi, hi, hi, hi babe
Who did you wish to see?”

I waited such a long time for you
You must have known what I was goin’ through
Finally knew what I had to do
Singing, “Hi, hi, hi, hi babe
Well, you do look good to me, yeah
Hi, hi, hi, hi babe
Who did you wish to see?”

I changed my mind
Ninety times an hour
As to hate you, love you, what
I guess there’s nothing that I can do
And that’s the most unkindest part

So say you wanted to be free
I guess this was how it had to be
I’ll just welcome you as you would me
And I’ll say, “Hi, hi, hi, hi babe
Well, you do look good to me, yeah
Hi, hi, hi, hi babe
Who did you wish to see?”

James: This is a song inspired by irony. I realize that in the year of the appointed president, that’s silly, but uh, I’m still doing it. It’s a tune called “Touch Like Magic”.

Everybody’s talkin’
All around the town, they got the news
Everybody’s talkin’
They say Jimmy got the front page blues, hmm

Jimmy got a touch like magic
Watch him place his bets while they spin the wheel
All around the table, the crowd is frantic
Electricity is there
It’s a fever in the air, you can feel

Came on like a heat wave
And everything he touched just turned to gold
Came on like a heat wave
And everywhere, the story is already told

They say Jimmy got a touch like magic
Make a little room, let him roll those dice
Jimmy got a touch like magic
It’s the kind of lucky streak can’t
Happen in a lifetime twice

Everybody knows it
Somethin’ goin’ on, and it’s goin’ good
Everybody shows it
His rabbits’ feet, their mustard seed, they’re knockin’ on wood

I guess you got to get it while you’re able
You’ve got to catch it while you can
’Cause once you put your cards down on the table
Everybody knows there’s no point in
Tryin’ to pick them up again

[break]

Soon, at the big casino
Word has gotten ’round, and they turn him away
At the big casino
There ain’t a table left where the boy can play

It’s too bad
Jimmy don’t know when to lose
Jimmy got a touch like magic
If he wins another hand
He gets an offer that he can’t refuse

Everybody’s talkin’
Everybody’s talkin’

[???]

James: Carole King and Gerry Goffin, right? Wow. That’s all they had to do, as far as I’m concerned. That’s such a good song. I really wanted to write that badly, you know. In fact, I did write it badly. About eighty times.

The local rock group down the street
Is trying hard to learn their song
They serenade the weekend squire
Who just came out to mow his lawn

Another Pleasant Valley Sunday
Charcoal burning everywhere
Mothers complain about how hard life is
And the kids don’t seem to care

See Mrs. Gray, she’s proud today
Because her roses are in bloom
And Mr. Green, he’s so serene
He’s got a T.V. in every room

Another Pleasant Valley Sunday
Here in status symbol land
Rows of houses that are all the same
And no one understands

Creature comfort goals
They only numb my soul
And make it hard for me to see (Ah-ah-ah-ah)
My thoughts all seem to stray
To places far away
I need a change of scenery

La ba-bum bum, bum ba-bum ba
Da ba-bum ba, da ba-bum ba
Ba ba-bum bum, bum bum-bum ba
Da ba-bum ba, dum ba-bum ba

Another Pleasant Valley Sunday
Charcoal burning everywhere
Another Pleasant Valley Sunday, yeah
Here in status symbol land

Another Pleasant Valley Sunday (Sunday)
Another Pleasant Valley Sunday (Sunday)
Another Pleasant Valley Sunday (Pleasant Valley)

“Thank you.”