Walking around the room singing Stormy Weather, at 57 Mount Pleasant street. Well it’s the same room, but everything’s different. You can find the street, but not the dream.
Things ain’t cooking in my kitchen, strange afflictions wash over me.
Julius Caesar and the Roman Empire couldn’t conquer the blue sky.
Everywhere you go, always take the weather with you
Everywhere you go, always take the weather…
Well there’s a small boat of China. It’s going nowhere on the mantelpiece.
Do I lie like a lounge-room lizard, or do I sing like a bird released?