|
My music tore at Sassie's heart |
|
And Mercer loved my rhymes |
|
My tunes climbed the Billboard chart |
|
At least a dozen times |
|
But life's capricious pendulum |
|
Has tossed me to this pit |
|
I sure could use ANOTHER HIT |
|
A long parade of goddesses |
|
Passed through my bedroom door |
|
I unhooked gowns and bodices |
|
Till it became a chore |
|
I dined with Julie London once |
|
Charmed her with my wit |
|
Joe, I could use ANOTHER HIT |
|
Their hands would flutter down my neck |
|
The honey flowed, the honey flowed |
|
A crisp new bill would pay the check |
|
The money goes, the money goes |
|
We rode in block-long limousines |
|
The champagne flowed like wine |
|
I made the trades and magazines |
|
This fickle world was mine |
|
My evening clothes were Saville Row |
|
Each suit a perfect fit |
|
Joe, I could use ANOTHER HIT |
|
A narrow waist |
|
An ample hip |
|
The honey flowed, the honey flowed |
|
I'd leave a twenty for a tip |
|
The money goes, the money goes |
|
I muddle through this blue-soaked haze |
|
Bereft of all my toys |
|
The music that they write these days |
|
Is just a lot of noise |
|
The world is not so sweet a place |
|
When viewed from where I sit |
|
Joe, I could use ANOTHER HIT. |
|
words and music by David Cantor |
|
(c) 1993 Flexible Man Music, Corp. |
