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 --