Bill Steele Garbage
Garbage! (The ! is part of the title!) Copyright (c) 1969 Whitfeld Music (BMI) All rights reserved Bill Steele [email protected] ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Mister Thompson calls the waiter, orders steak and baked potato Then he leaves the bone and gristle and he never eats the skin The busboy comes and takes it, with a cough contaminates it As he puts it in a can with coffee grounds and sardine tins Till the truck comes by on Friday and carts it all away And a thousand trucks just like it are converging on the Bay Garbage, garbage, garbage, garbage What will we do when there's no place left To put all the garbage Mr Thompson starts his caddilac and winds it up the freeway track Leaving friends and neighbors in a hydrocarbon haze He's joined by lots of smaller cars all sending gases to the stars There to form a seething cloud that hangs for thirty days While the sun licks <looks> down upon it with its ultraviolet tongues Till it turns to smog and settles down and ends up in our lungs Garbage, garbage We're filling up the sky <air> with garbage Garbage, garbage What will we do When there's nothing left to breathe but garbage Getting home and taking off his shoes he settles down with evening news While the kids do homework with the TV in one ear While Superman for thousandth<s> time sell talking <sexy> dolls and conquers crime They dutifully learn the date of birth of Paul Revere In the paper there's a piece about the mayor's middle name And he gets it done in time to watch the all-star bingo game Garbage, garbage We're filling up our minds with garbage Garbage, garbage What will we do when there's nothing left to read And there's nothing left to hear And there's nothing left to need And there's nothing left to wear (that way it sort of rhymes....) <What will we do when there's nothing left to hear And there's nothing left to read And there's nothing left to wear And there's nothing left to need> And there's nothing left to talk about And there's nothing to walk upon And there's nothing left to care about -> And nothing left to ponder on And <there's> nothing left to see (reverse order here:) And there's nothing left to do And there's nothing left to be but garbage