Mark Abramson - Dress Rehearsal Rag lyrics

Got up sometime in the afternoon And you didn't feel like much You said to yourself, "Where are you, golden boy Where is your famous golden touch?" I thought you knew where All the elephants lie down I thought you were the crown prince Of all the wheels in Ivory town Look at your body now Where there's nothing much to say And a bitter voice in the mirror says "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 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 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 an A for anyone Who will give you his applause I thought you were a racing man Ah, 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 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 spent the summers Picking all 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 the highest mountains And you sang about the view And everywhere you went Love went along with you That's a hard one to remember It makes you clench your fist And the veins stand out like highways All along your wrist And yes, it's come to this It's come to this And wasn't it a long way down? 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 coupons you can send Why don't you join the Rosicrucians? They will give you back your hope You can find your love in diagrams In a plain, brown envelope But you've used up all your coupons Except the one that seems To be tattooed on your arm Along with several thousand dreams Now Santa Claus comes forward That's a razor in his mitt And he puts on his dark gla**es And he shows you where to hit And then the cameras pan The stand in stuntman's Dress rehearsal rag