If I don’t, I’ll have a dangerous spill.
My feet’ll be in the air. The birds will tweet.
My feet’ll be in the air. The birds will tweet.
Walking through all of this
most amazing day’s sweet
opportunities—opportunities to get killed!
When I walk, I keep my chin forward of my feet.
opportunities—opportunities to get killed!
When I walk, I keep my chin forward of my feet.
My chin is made of steel, you
know. When the street
slugs me in the middle of my vaudeville
act, my feet ain’t in the air, at least. The birds don’t tweet.
slugs me in the middle of my vaudeville
act, my feet ain’t in the air, at least. The birds don’t tweet.
Could be I’ll break my wrists,
though, complet-
ly wrecking my nice mandolin quadrille. Still,
when I walk, I'll keep my chin forward of my feet.
ly wrecking my nice mandolin quadrille. Still,
when I walk, I'll keep my chin forward of my feet.
Don’t know when, but soon, the
white sheet
will cover up my face. What’s left of me will fill
a tight space bereft of air, where no birds tweet;
will cover up my face. What’s left of me will fill
a tight space bereft of air, where no birds tweet;
but that’ll be the day when our
souls meet,
before we tumbled down the hill, says Jack, says Jill.
When I walk I keep my chin forward of my feet.
My feet will be in the sky. The birds will tweet.
before we tumbled down the hill, says Jack, says Jill.
When I walk I keep my chin forward of my feet.
My feet will be in the sky. The birds will tweet.
