It's a late Friday night
The street lamps are shining
Up in my bedroom
There's a mighty big fight
Between the thunder and lightning
Wonder who you will lose
I see a party balloon
And I ain't been invited
Hey, look that moon
There ain't nothing like it
All grey and gold
Down on Jubilee Road
Can see Mr. Bouvier
In his two-bedroom basement
In his purple dungarees
He's grumpy and he's grey
Always sweeping off the pavement
Cigarettes and leaves
His kid's up in China
His wife's up in heaven
Always I wave
'Cause he's got this expression
That he's so alone
vocation
thunder
think
these
there
summertime
street
stoned
still
spend
tonight
songs
shining
purple
seems
perfect
pavement
between
sweeping
knock
empty
might
dungarees
drinks
leaves
paper
brief
friday
invited
lightning
alright
generation
station
endlessly
china
basement
always
heaven
night
cigarettes
grumpy
bedroom
walls
alone
bouvier
fight
money
balloon
mighty
maude
bitter
house
friends
wonder
tomorrow
getting
horse
jubilee
expression
everything
lamps
lover
neighbours
thing
nothing
about
other
appreciate
party
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