Pretty girl, wrecking' bar Ra ra ra ra yeah you are Growing up, I'm twice the man Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah I am The angel's game, F. Scott Fitzgerald The evening news and the morning herald I know they're not from very far But those girls do nothing for me why？ Where you been? You can't say? Hey hey hey hey yeah you may That might seem a bit below No no no it's funny though Let's go home, I think we oughta I know you're your mother's daughter Well brought up and royal blue But I haven't got the time for you Finger pointing, presupposing Watch out man the doors are closing This is what you get when you turn your back A clear blue sky turning dirty black