This is the Good Ship Lifestyle All my friends jumped ship I elect me the captain This is the lonliest voyage I've ever been on Up in the crow's nest - Over there! I see land! First mate? There is no First Mate... This is the Good Ship Lifestyle
Sail away from the world
So steer a course A course for nowhere And drop the anchor My little Empire I'm going nowhere (This is the Good Ship Lifestyle)
This is the Good Ship Lifestyle I fly my very own flag TV dinners for one At the captain's table Repel all boarders!
Draw the curtains tighter! Where's the crew? There is no crew...
This is the Good Ship Lifestyle
Sail away from the world
So steer a course A course for nowhere And drop the anchor My little Empire I'm going nowhere (This is the Good Ship Lifestyle)
I'm going nowhere
So steer a course A course for nowhere And drop the anchor My little Empire I'm going nowhere This is the Good Ship Lifestyle
Lucy was 7 and wore a head of blue barettes City born, into this world with no knowledge and no regrets Had a piece of yellow chalk with which she'd draw upon the street The many faces of the various locals that she would meet There was joshua, age 10 Bully of the block Who always took her milk money at the morning bus stop There was Mrs. Crabtree, and her poodle She always gave a wave and holler on her weekly trip down to the bingo parlor And she drew Men, women, kids, sunsets, clouds And she drew Skyscrapers, fruit stands, cities, towns Always said hello to passers-by They'd ask her why she passed her time Attachin lines to concrete But she would only smile Now all the other children living in or near her building Ran around like tyrants, soaking up the open fire hydrants They would say "Hey little Lucy, wanna come jump double dutch?" Lucy would pause, look, grin and say "I'm busy, thank you much" Well, well, one year passed And believe it or not She covered every last inch of the entire sidewalk, And she stopped- "Lucy, after all this, you're just giving in today??" She said: "I'm not giving in, I'm finished," and walked away
1 2 3 That's the speed of the seed A B C That's the speed of the need dream a little dream, Or you can live a little dream I'd rather live it Cuz dreamers always chase But never get it
Lucy was 37, and introverted somewhat Basement apartment in the same building she grew up in She traded in her blue barettes for long locks held up with a clip Traded in her yellow chalk for charcoal sticks And she drew Little bobby who would come to sweep the porch And she drew The mailman, delivered everyday at 4 Lucy had very little contact with the folks outside her cubicle day But she found it suitable, and she liked it that way She had a man now: Rico, similar, hermit They would only see each other once or twice a week on purpose They appreciated space and Rico was an artist too So they'd connect on saturdays to share the pictures that they drew (Look!) Now every month or so, she'd get a knock upon the front door Just one of the neighbors, Actin nice, although she was a strange girl, they would Say, "Lucy, wanna join me for some lunch??" Lucy would smile and say "I'm busy, thank you much" And they would make a weird face the second the door shut And run and tell their friends how truly crazy Lucy was And lucy knew what people thought but didn't care Cuz while they spread their rumors through the street She'd paint another masterpiece
Lucy was 87, upon her death bed At the senior home, where she had previously checked in Traded in the locks and clips for a head rest Traded in the charcoal sticks for arthritis, it had to happen And she drew no more, just sat and watched the dawn Had a television in the room that she'd never turned on Lucy pinned up a life worth's of pictures on the wall And sat and smiled, looked each one over, just to laugh at it all Now Rico, he had passed, 'bout 5 years back So the visiting hours pulled in a big flock o' nothin She'd never spoken once throughout the spanning of her life Until the day she leaned forward, grinned and pulled the nurse aside And she said: "Look, I've never had a dream in my life Because a dream is what you wanna do, but still haven't pursued I knew what I wanted and did it till it was done So i've been the dream that I wanted to be since day one!" Well! The nurse jumped back, She'd never heard Lucy even talk, 'Specially words like that She walked over to the door, and pulled it closed behind Then Lucy blew a kiss to each one of her pictures And she died.
Don't get smart or sarcastic He snaps back just like elastic Spare us the theatrics and the verbal gymnastics We break wise guys just like matchsticks
What would the loved ones say? Your pride and joy is all blown up What would the loved ones say? The bride and boy are barely grown up You're not my particular poison I've got nothing against you myself You could have been a danger to the boys and girls Now you're a danger to yourself
Oh what would the loved ones say What would the loved ones say Oh what would the loved ones say What would the loved ones say
The ugly little dreams run round your bed The ugly little scenes you get the needle and no thread They stitched you up this time They say you'll do They bitch about your pretty face turning ugly on you
The butcher the baker and the bassline maker Say you can leave her I can take her You spend your whole life like a minute or two later One day its going to end sooner than greater
What would the loved ones say He'll be remembered young and pretty What would the loved ones say Now he's a hit in every city Now there's a name well never forget There's one born every minute Dont pin a medal on me yet They might be waiting for you
In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields.
