Al, he sells records down on old St. Charley's Street He's cleaning up Fat Tuesday's mess he keeps the sidewalks neat And he just lost his father and he just lost his wife
Rubber on my tires making contact with the road Sign on the street post tells me which way I should go Riding down America Street funny that it's one way
Welcome back to earth my fine young lucky southern son How was your trip to outer-space it sure did look like fun You seem somewhat puzzled like you just can't readjust
Seven million years of progress handed down on silver wings Of gossamer and protein still we haven't learned a thing Are we caught up in our anger, locked up in our rage
The smile on your face could sacrifice salvation As the winter sunshine fades to bring you down A fumble in the dark, it's a journey on the night train