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