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Riley: The philosopher’s hand

de Terry Riley

For all you messed up beautiful morning boozers
For all you messed up loosers,drug abusers
I'm turning my back on this freakin' town
While I still have time,We're all going down.

I Woke up in the same clothes I was last night
My pockets are empty,it was a first class flight
Mayday,Mayday, we're out of gas
We're losing altitude, we're gonna crash.

The life that you chose, the things that you do
I met all your boys and they're just like you
You want to go home, well it's too late
You just want to sleep but your girl, she's awake
And she's so tired of what's going on
That snooner or later she'll be gone

Mayday,Mayday, we're out of gas
We're losing altitude, we're gonna crash.

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