Down at the chambers she waves at the waiter
|
while talking about a play that she read.
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She is painting her words like some old Russian poet
|
forgotten of course, but ahead.
|
Ooh yeah!
|
She is at the top of the world now.
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Upon the hill there's a man with a view
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and he is talking about the book that he's writing
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from his window to the world he sees more
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than you do and it's all so very frightening.
|
So he talks and he spits at society changes
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and people too big for their minds.
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The mirror of life is the God in his struggle
|
but still he's walking around blind.
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Hey, this ain't my crowd no more
|
Now wait, wait, wait, this ain't my crowd no more.
|
Thru a bottle of wine she is seeking a thrill
|
from a man who calls himself Ted
|
a brand new religion is up on the table and
|
Ted is soon to be dead.
|
An intellectual puppet with marshmallow shoes
|
to step on every subject you bring.
|
Now she travelled the world and she met all the famous
|
but still she doesn't get a thing.
|
Hey, this ain't my crowd no more
|
Now wait, wait, wait, this ain't my crowd no more.
|
No, this ain't my crowd
|
Out form the cold came a girl born in Silance
|
making her way thru the crowd
|
words ain't her weapon, and she doesn't have to
|
justify everything to walk proud
|
so brother believe me, ain't doin' no harm
|
I'm just glad to be out of this place
|
So before we decide to leave them all behind
|
let's take a good look at her face
|
Hey, this ain't my crowd no more
|
Now wait, wait, wait, this ain't my crowd no more.
|
Hey, this ain't my crowd no more
|
Now wait, wait, wait, this ain't my crowd no more.
|
this ain't my crowd no more, this ain't my crowd no more
|
this ain't my crowd no more
|
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This Ain't My Crowd
|
| Andreas Johnson |
