Dress Rehearsal Rag

It's called "Dress rehearsal rag"

I got up sometime in the afternoon and I didn't feel like much

I said to myself, "Where are you golden boy

Where's your famous golden touch?"

I thought you knew where all of the elephants lie down

I thought you were the crown prince of all the wheels in Ivory Town

Look at your body now, there's nothing much to save

And a bitter voice in the mirror cries, "Hey prince, you need a shave"

Now if you can manage to get your trembling fingers to behave

Why don't you try unwrapping a stainless steel razor blade?

That's right, it's come to this

Yes, it's come to this

And wasn't it a long way down?

And wasn't it a strange way down?

There's no hot water and the cold is running thin

Well, what do you expect from the kind of places that you've been living in?

Don't drink from that cup, it's all caked and cracked along the rim

That's not the electric light, my friend, that is your vision that is dim

Cover up your face with soap there, now you're Santa Claus

And you've got a gift for anyone who will give you his applause

I thought that you were a racing man, but you couldn't take the pace

That's a funeral in the mirror and it's stopping at your face

That's right, it's come to this

Yes, it's come to this

And wasn't it a long way down?

And wasn't it a strange way down?

Once there was a path and a girl with chestnut hair

And you passed the summers picking all of the berries that grew there

There were times she was a woman, there were times she was a child

As you held her in the shadows where the raspberries grow wild

And you climbed on the highest mountains and you sang about the view

And everywhere that you wandered love went along with you

That's a hard one to remember, it makes you clench your fist

And then the veins stand out like highways, all along your wrist

And then you know it's come to this

Yes, it's come to this

And wasn't it a long way down?

And wasn't it a strange way down?

You can still find a job, go out and talk to a friend

On the back of every magazine there are those coupons you can send

Why don't you join the Rosicrucians, they will give you back your hope

You can find your love with diagrams in a plain brown envelope

But you've used up all your coupons, yes, except the one that seems

To be tattooed on to your arm along with several thousand dreams

Now Santa Claus comes forward, that's a razor in his mit

And he puts on his dark glasses and he shows you where to hit

And then the cameras pan

The stand in stunt man's dress rehearsal rag

It's the dress rehearsal rag