Your silver child

suspended in space

Crying out

to you

Beckons you

to yet another fine place

Where the trials of life are few



Don't think you're living long

Who says you are coming on

They won't remember you

The rent is always due



The cloudy men

who take their place

And stand in line

they do

Know not of

the satin face

That separates them from you



Just put your blue jeans on

Grab your guitar and sing a song

Don't think I'm kidding you

The rent is always due



She rides a broom

with gold-plated straw

She flutters around

and she cries

The Brylcream fools

just standing on

Digesting all their lives



But then you walk along

And she starts coming on

Beneath her melting broom

The rent is always due