So long Mrs. Smith
This spring I think that I should go
I have had enough of this
& this place ain’t what it was before.
When I was young nine thirty was late enough
And the sky was angel dust
A dead top trio of criminal saints
To worship at wongs
Would you say that we were wrong?
So long Mrs. Smith
This spring I thing that I should go
I have had enough of this
I’m going down to edison