©1997 by Tim Burke
I really did want to brain the motorcyclist who
had problems starting his bike at 5 A.M.
| lo-fi play | hi-fi play |
verse 1
At 5 A.M. the trashman makes his own brand of music
in the alley down below
And if that jerk don't start his chopper soon
I may find a new place for that tailpipe to go.
verse 2
Remember usin foul language with the bus stop blue-hairs?
We'd watch their eyes bug out -- you really had a flair.
Though I called your taste in art "early nouveau truck stop,"
I miss your velvet Elvis, how he seemed to eavesdrop.
(chorus)
Shame shame shame -- shame on me, shame on you.
Shame shame shame -- to let it die, not wanting to.
Shame shame shame -- how strong we were and now we're through.
Shame shame shame -- shame on me, shame on you.
verse 3
Lately it's been so crappy that wakin' up on a barroom floor
Don't have the juice for me no more.
And if one more little pud tries to sell me magazines
for a trip to Orlando, I'll rip out his spleen.