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Tick, Tick...BOOM!
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No more Walking up six flights of stairs Or throwing down the key Because there is no buzzer No more Walking thirteen blocks With thirty pounds of laundry In the fuckin' dead of winter No more faulty wiring No more painted floors No more spitting out my ultra bright On top of dirty dishes In the one and only sink Hello, to my walk in closets Tidy as Park Avenue Hello, my butcher block table I could get used, I could get used I could get used to you No more Climbing over sleeping people Before you get out the door Of your own building No more Noxious fumes from gas heaters That are illegal Or will blow up while you are sleeping No more Leaky ceilings No more Holes in the floor No more Taking a shower in the kitchen While your roommate's eating breakfast And you are getting water on his corn flakes Hello, to shiny New parquet wood floors As waxed as a wealthy girl's legs Hello, dear Mister Dishwasher I could get used, I could get used I could get used, I could get used to you I could get used to you No more, exotic No more, neurotic No more anything But pleasantly robotic We are moving on up We are moving on up To the East Side To the East Side To a deluxe apartment In the sky What's that? Oh, come on Hold on, breathe Easy What are you doing? It's him Ah, hold the phone Hello, to dear Mister Doorman Who looks like Captain Kangaroo Hello dear fellow, and how do you do? I could get used, I could get used Even seduced, even seduced I could get used to you Oh, yeah
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