| I’m looking in my little black book |
| to see if I was right or rongwrong |
| within the confines of whoremonger logic |
| to even try to sing this song |
| I could have asked the I Ching |
| but that would have taken up too much time |
| And with the time being four-four |
| I didn’t see there was no time to lose |
| If things got bad it could always turn into a blues |
| Like they do back home on the Delta -- |
| grunt and groan |
| And looking in my little black book of European logic |
| Still I can’t make head or tail of it |
| If I could only read between the lines |
| Think of all the treasures I might find |
| Learn the secret of trance and levitation |
| Liberate my soul in six easy lessons |
| Meanwhile I’ll stay at home, listen to Schönberg in the bath |
| and leave you to the geometry of my laugh |
| to which you’re welcome if it helps you at all |
| to get your rocks off and have a ball |
| Never let it be thought that we have nothing to share |
| We drink the same water and we breathe the same air |
| Deep down inside we need each other just the same |
| You need me to laugh at and I need you to blame |