Apartment 21 - Bobbie Gentry

Rain on my Sunday shoes

Pick up the daily news

Looks like tomorrows blues

But its better than none

Call on the telephone

Knowin' that he’s not home

I’ll put on the Rollin' Stones

And I can have me some fun

Start up a flight of stairs

Stand up and comb your hair

Try not to change things

More than you can withstand

Get into something new

That’s made for a year or two

Pick up the pieces

Where you think they might land

Everyday goes

Another days gone

Hate to say so but I’m getting older

Day by day

Take off all your clothes

Stand up and wipe your nose

Cry for your daddy

Who died so long ago

Jump on another plane

Today it’s all the same

You can catch me in Boston

'Cause that’s how it goes

I’m here in apartment 21

Stop by and have some fun

Say how ya doin', ya old son of a gun

Look at a photograph

Lord, don’t it make you laugh

For all these changes

What have you done?

La la la, la la la, la la la la

Lla la la la, la la la, la la la la

La la la, la la la, la la la la

La la la la, la la la, la la la la

Sit down and write a song

Wait till the days grow long

And wait fir the autumn wind

To blow me away

La la la, la la la, la la la la

Lla la la la, la la la, la la la la

La la la, la la la, la la la la

La la la la, la la la, la la la la