There's a story about this kid named Sid 
and he was born to be wild 
I save cigarette butts for a monkey 
in a mountain and I looked around 
some kind of friend went out one night 
walking in the premarital world the wicked world 
don't you ever wear my clothes again 

Stars on Parade! 

When I was a little happy 
happy, happy, happy 
you wanted to be somebody 
but you ain't no [funk?] 
bomb bursting in air 
jail babe don't you know i can't 
hovering comes to mind 
somehow describing hovering becomes 
important in a cold hard world 
it's [a very?] like a rose, like a rose 
like a monkey in a blue bayou
like a complete unknown 
like the wild wind blowing in the stars 
I'm looking for a nice girl 
there was this big guy 
since I lost my smile 
and your heart is weary 

Stars on Parade!