I come from Tin Pan Valley and I´m moving right along
I live on former glory, so long ago and gone
I´m turning down the talk shows, the humor and the couch

I´m moving up to higher ground, I´ve found a new way out
There´s parasols and barbeque´s and loungers by the pool
The late night conversations filled with 20th century cool
My peers may flirt with cabaret, some fake the rebel yell
Me, I´m moving up to higher ground, I must escape this hell
Let me suspend my thirst for knowledge in your powder, sweat and sighs
A grudge of Christian women, a stain of spotless wives
A perfect destination inside a perfect world
I take the bottle to the baby, you take the hammer to the pearl
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Every day´s like Sunday, down here on memory lane
Salad days and no good ways can drive me quite insane
A cocktail clouded troubadour attempts to speak in tongues
He´s said, “Enough, I´m through the door I´m moving right along
Along, along, along, along”
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