(Darryl Worley/Leslie)
All day long I break my back
To keep this company in the black
There's gotta be an end to all this labor
When I hear that whistle blow
I can't wait to see your smiling face and
Lose myself in your embrace
But lately every day when I walk in
Oh it feels like work again
So maybe we should find ourselves a mountain top
A little place to stop for awhile
Get above the things that made us feel this way
Hey, a day or two and we'll come back in style
Just a little time together
Oh, it's bound to make things better
Till the weight of this old world starts closing in
And it feels like work again
Now life, it ain't no fairy tale
And I guess we know all too well
How sometimes it can get a little crazy
Yeah, that's the way it is
So we just keep on going
But there's peace of mind in knowing
We can run off somewhere every now and then
When it feels like work again
So baby we should find ourselves a mountain top
A little place to stop for awhile
Get above the things that made us feel this way
Hey, a day or two and we'll come back in style
Just a little time together
Oh, it's bound to make things better
Till the weight of this old world starts closing in
And it feels like work again
Yeah, we just keep on going
'Cause there's peace of mind in knowing
We can run off somewhere every now and then
When it feels like work again
Yeah when it feels like work againNew York City soothing my itchy itchy month
of May
Time has passed for Mrs. Onassis,
decay on display
I don't want to go down
I don't want to go down
I don't want to go down - like she did
And I can't understand why something
good's got to die before we miss it
Mumbled talk throught pigeon park
And Hastings is wasting away
Religiously they seem to sin
Buy, sell or trade for amens
I just don't want to feel
I just don't want to feel
I just don't want to feel - like they feel
Hollow body for sound, trade a coat for
a gown
Way up in my arms you know
I love you just a little bit more
Raisin' nose down to chin
Smoke after smoke they all trickle in
Anything, for anything, and ending up
with nothing
Simple pimpled young man
Sores all over his hands
He's sleeping, not so silently
I'll mop the floors for you all
I'm a fly on the wall
Really big and listening
Burned a hand of a friend of mine
And Bub I know that you could fly a
mile high
You told me nothing's ever gonna come
between
Nothing's ever gonna come between
Nothing's ever gonna come between
My dumptruck and me