My clothes won’t let me close the door
Cause the trousers seem to love your floor
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I went down to the station and I leaned up against the door.
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is
First there is a mountain.
Lyrics that stick - I can’t get you out of my head. 
It looks just like a telefunken U-47, ha ha ha , you’ll love it , with leather.
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If you want to be a bird
Why don’t you try a little flying
There’s no denying
It gets you high
Why be shackled to your feet
When you’ve got wings
You haven’t used yet
Don’t wait for heaven
Get out and fly
Just glide there
Through the clear air
Making figure eights
Through the pearly gates
Where the soul and the universe meet
If you want to be a bird
It won’t take much
To get you up there
But when you come down
Land on your feet
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Gonna leave here running, 'cause walking is much too slow.
The king is gone but he’s not forgotten (Johnny Rotten, Johnny Rotten)
Is this story of Johnny Rotten? (Johnny Rotten, Rotten Johnny)
It’s better to burn out, ‘cause rust never sleeps
The king is gone but he’s not forgotten
Standin’ on a corner
Suitcase in my hand
(One of those songs that you only need to hear the first line)
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First thing you learn is you always got to wait
Oh I’m…
Go ‘way from my window
Leave at your own chosen speed
In my head Dylan version is
“And leave at your own chosen speed” but it’s never written like in any lyrics I have seen.
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Don’t sing love songs, you’ll wake my mother
She’s sleeping here, right by my side
And in her right hand a silver dagger
She says that I can’t be your bride
“All men are false”, says my mother
“They’ll tell you wicked, lovin’ lies
The very next evening they’ll court another
Leave you alone to pine and sigh”
My daddy is a handsome devil
He’s got a chain five miles long
And on every link a heart does dangle
Of another maid he’s loved and wronged
Go, court another tender maiden
And hope that she will be your wife
For I’ve been warned and I’ve decided
To sleep alone all of my life
She stayed with me until
she moved to Notting Hill
She said it was the place she needs to be
Where the cocaine is fair trade,
and frequently displayed
Is the Buena Vista Social Club CD
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It’s the kind of night that’s so cold, when you spit
It freezes before it hits the ground
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My favourite line from that album (different song)
Telephone’s ringing, but I don’t answer it
'cause everybody knows that good news always sleeps till noon
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Different song again
So the powers-that-be left me here to do all the thinking
And I just turned twenty-two …
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Give me your hungry, your tired your poor I’ll piss on 'em
that’s what the Statue of Bigotry says
Your poor huddled masses, let’s club 'em to death
and get it over with and just dump 'em on the boulevard
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Tory manifesto?
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Not far off, I think Rudy Giuliani was Mayor of NYC when those lyrics were written
I was a teenage stamp collector
I’d lay on my back and you’d stamp on my face
And in the towns where I live
There’s stamp collectors all over the place