Soon our fortunes will be made, my darling, And we will leave this loathsome little town Silver bells jingling from your black lizard boots, my baby, Silver foil to trim your wedding gown. A mind wanders, It seems mindless, but it does. Sometimes I see your face As if through reading glasses, And your smile seems softer than it was. Some people gonna call you up and tell you something you already know. I got to go, I got to go.
Proof is the bottom line for everyone.
My face, my race Don't matter anymore. Some people gonna call you up and tell you something you already know. Proof is the bottom line for everyone. And the sky is flecked with signs of hope. Wash your tangled curls with ganbler's soap.