a light on up in Simon's window
Lies alone with his ceiling fan on
One room flat with a sink
I'll fall in but you can't
I'll fall in but you can't
Born in the fifties, lost in sixty -seven
a five -and -dime in town
Lies in bed and thinks the
green balls have no answer
for the past 30 years or more
And his grandpa picked the South
and his father picked the Russians
I've fallen, but you can't
I've fallen, but you can't cross over me
his father owned an Exxon
He had a Pinto till it blew
Voted for Mondale, Loveport,
I've fallen but you can't
I've fallen but you can't cross over me
Sad and low and close to the ground
Sad and low but not quite down
was his pride and libations
regrets what's left behind
but they never came to reason
I'm tired of al ways be ing wrong,
and I'm tired of loving you
Tired of always be ing wrong,
and I'm tired of loving you
I've fallen, but you can't walk over me
I've fallen, but you can't cross over me
He sleeps it off, the sink it is dripping
but you can't put him down