Sometimes When I finally reach the end of the day Where I've been I couldn't say Meantime I repeat myself in this familiar scene Like a xerox machine spins around They built it in
Some days things can be perfectly clear And the next day hopelessly blurred In the rear view mirror reflects All those things I left behind I'm a butcher I'm a baker I'm a midnight undertaker But there's nothing else on earth I'd rather do Me myself and you
Monday Turns to friday in the spin of a wheel And the price of my next meal Meantime When the only one who's making any sense Is the drunkard on the fence Between me and what's real
Chorus) Someday soon we will all meet again It's impossible to think that we have somehow reached the end So here's to all our imaginary friends The butchers and the bakers And the stirrers and the shakers And the hookers and the takers And the addicts and the achers And the midnight undertakers And the rollercoaster fakers Still there's nothing else on earth I'd rather do Me myself and you
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