Big Apple

Lonely house blues, donating my shoes
Old lady downstairs, keeps dying her hair
When done cooking food, we'll move to my room
Can tell I don't care, there's dust in the air

Poor you, let the good times through
Overdue, you're such a nice view

Don't get misconstrued, making pee and poo
Like musical chairs and foreign affairs
Please slip me quaaludes, make me subdued
Can tell I don't care, there's shit on the stairs

Poor me, I'm falling down
To the ground level