|
With his back against the San Francisco traffic |
|
On the bridges side that faces towards the jail |
|
Setting out to join a demographic |
|
He hoists his first leg up over the rail |
|
And a phone call is made, police cars show up quickly |
|
The sergeant slams his passenger door |
|
He says, "Hey son why don't you talk through this with me? |
|
Just tell me what you're doing it for" |
|
"Oh, it's a little bit of everything |
|
It's the mountains, it's the fog |
|
It's the news at six o'clock |
|
It's the death of my first dog" |
|
"It's the angels up above me |
|
It's the song that they don't sing |
|
It's a little bit of everything" |
|
An older man stands in a buffet line |
|
He is smiling and holding out his plate |
|
And the further he looks back into his timeline |
|
That hard road always had led him to today |
|
And making up for when his bright future had left him |
|
Making up for the fact that his only son is gone |
|
And letting everything out once, his server asks him |
|
"Have you figured out yet, what it is you want?" |
|
I want a little bit of everything |
|
The biscuits and the beans |
|
Whatever helps me to forget about |
|
The things that brought me to my knees |
|
So pile on those mashed potatoes |
|
And an extra chicken wing |
|
I'm having a little bit of everything |
|
Somewhere a pretty girl is writing invitations |
|
To a wedding she has scheduled for the fall |
|
Her man says, "Baby, can I make an observation? |
|
You don't seem to be having any fun at all" |
|
She said, "You just worry about |
|
Your groomsmen and your shirt-size |
|
And rest assured that this is making me feel good" |
|
I think that love is so much easier than you realize |
|
If you can give yourself to someone, then you should |
|
'Cause it's a little bit of everything |
|
The way you choke, the way you ache |
|
It is waking up before you |
|
So I can watch you as you wake |
|
So in the day in late September |
|
It's not some stupid little ring |
|
I'm giving a little bit of everything |
|
Oh, it's a little bit of everything |
|
It's the matador and the bull |
|
It's the suggested daily dosage |
|
It is the red moon when it's full |
|
All these psychics and these doctors |
|
They're all right and they're all wrong |
|
It's like trying to make out every word |
|
When they should simply hum along |
|
It's not some message written in the dark |
|
Or some truth that no one's seen |
|
It's a little bit of everything |
