words and music by Arlo Guthrie



It ain't so much the boredom

But the fire in her soul

That made her life unbearable

While living in that hole

Of her dark surburban nightmare

'Till she went to see the Dead

And the self esteem she valued

Was immediately spent

And she had no one to turn to

So she just turned off her mind

She's a well adjusted wanderer

But all this stuff takes time



On the streets of old Wyoming

There's a couple from L.A.

They are post-environmentalists

Looking for to stay

'Till their friends all come to join them

In the quest for air to breathe

And when it gets too crowded

They will just pick up and leave

Like they did in New York City

When the coast seemed quite sublime

It don't take much but money

And money just takes time



Marie is on the lounge chair

Draped around the pool

Avoiding almost anyone who'd

Desecrate he cool

It's the reason she's attractive

She's already self abused

And her pride won't feel the loneliness

That comes with being used

She's the center of the universe

For which she was designed

Until she wakes up wandering

Why all this stuff takes time



Bill died of a heart attack

Beating up his wife

Now he's come back as a lesbian

That's looking for his wife

Who is now a psychoanalyst

That likes to work with plants

Except of course on weekends

When she likes to wear the pants

She's a leather goddess minister

Who works with the confined

It don't take much to realize

That all this stuff takes time