Ah don't touch that dial



Here's a word about my ex-girlfriend

Towards the end conflict off and on

And I told her one night, "Honey every time we fight

I'll write a verse to this song"

Well, things got bad and things got worse

Still I struggled on

So sit back and get all comfortable

`Cause this little tunes six fuckin' hours long

And every journey's got destinations

Which the traveler can't expect

So how's that I'm always winding up

Down here at land's edge?



Now if love is blind why did her stockings

Always look so cool?

Now I know I was paying attention

But somehow I got fooled

Well I gave her seven children

And a twelve room uptown shack

And when it all was over

Took a dozen lawyers

To get half back

But I already got me a new gal to ruin my life

And she might just yet,

So I'm helping her find an apartment

Down here at land's edge



Now take the traveler and the tourist

The essential difference is

The traveler don't know where he's goin'

And the tourist don't know where he is

Small world till they lose your luggage, tho'

Take the stripper who lives next door

You'd swear this kid was 21 goin' on 44

But luckily that ain't how she sees it

Got a new tattoo that says:

"when I die, send the body to heaven,

Lost the rest at land's edge"