She's not your satellite
She doesn't miss you
So turn off your smoke machine
And Marshall stack

She doesn't have to have
Her Young Fresh Fellows tape back now
But there's not a lot of things that
She'll take back

My name is blue canary
One note, spelled L-I-T-E
My story's infinite
Like the Longines Symphonette
It doesn't rest

You called me last night on the telephone
And I was glad to hear from you 'cause I was all alone
You said, "It's snowing, it's snowing! God, I hate this weather!"
Now I walk through blizzards just to get us back together

For every one with dollar signs in his eyes
There must be hundreds that look at you as if you're some kind of
Rhythm section want ad

A man came up to me and said
"I'd like to change your mind
By hitting it with a rock," he said
"Though I am not unkind."

When I get into it
I can't tell if you are watching me
Twirling the stick

Where your eyes don't go a part of you is hovering
It's a nightmare that you'll never be discovering
You're free to come and go
Or talk like Kurtis Blow
But there's a pair of eyes in back of your head

What's the sense
In ever thinking about the tomb
When you're much too busy
Returning to the womb?