hitch up your britches and turn back the clocks shine up your shoes and dust off your cocks we’ve nothing to lose so get out on the floor we’re not in kansas no more
a tinker, a tailor and mud in your eye the butcher, the baker, the spider and fly shoot the moon and give me some more we’re not in kansas no more
the wind it is racing, the water is high strange conversation goes rattling by can you tell me who’s winning, i'm not keeping score some strange things beginning to wash up on the shore
all the fat cats that live 'cross the tracks waving their guns and swinging the axe they might give you a warning, they wont give you much more we’re not in kansas no more
a pie in the window, a purse on the table a princess in glad rags, a horse in the stable assorted enchantments and temptations galore we’re not in kansas no more
canned heat and coffin nails, riding the blinds visions of sugar plums dance in their minds it gets so that freedom is just one more chore we’re not in kansas no more
it wasn’t wise to give my hand a pen i would not advise that you do it again lend me your ear and i will give you what for draw down the blinds and put a bolt on the door
you’re gonna make this poor tin heart bleed carrying on about things that you need there must be some kind of god here to implore we’re not in kansas no more
peaches in spring time, apples in fall i’ve heard the blues and i’ve heard the call the rich they get rich and the poor they stay poor we’re not in kansas no more
bees they are buzzin’, the honey just drips the wolves in a circle all licking their lips they howl in the alley, they wait by the door we’re not in kansas no more
the sun has gone down, the moon’s fire-engine red i've been out on the town and it's gone to my head now, i’ve got this feeling i just can’t ignore it’s cracking the ceiling and shaking the floor
the flickering candles that we lit for some saint i am what i am and i ain’t what i ain’t these kind of troubles are my kind of decor we’re not in kansas no more