I come from the 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 humour and the couch
I′m moving up to higher ground - I′ve found a new way out

These parasols and barbecues and loungers by the pool
The late night conversations filled with twentieth-century cool
My peers may flirt with cabaret - some fake the rebel yell
Me, I′m moving up to higher ground - I must escape their 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
Like this - like this --

Every day′s like Sunday, down here on memory lane
Salad days and no good ways 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
Like this - like this --