| You only got one finger left |
| And it’s pointin' at the door |
| And you’re takin' for granted |
| What the Lord’s laid on the floor |
| So I’m pickin' up the pieces |
| And I’m puttin' them up for sale |
| Throw your meal ticket out the window |
| Put your skeletons in jail |
| 'Cause Lord only knows it’s getting late |
| Your senses are gone, so don’t you hesitate |
| To give yourself a call, let your bottom dollars fall |
| Throwing your two bit cares down the drain |
| Invite me to the seven seas |
| Like some seasick man |
| You will do whatever you please |
| And I’ll do whatever I can |
| Titanic, fare thee well |
| My eyes are turnin' pink |
| Don’t call us when the new age |
| Gets old enough to drink |
| 'Cause Lord only knows it’s getting late |
| Your senses are gone so don’t you hesitate |
| You move on up the hill but there’s nothin' there left to kill |
| Throwin' your two bit cares down the drain |
| Yea |
| Odelay, odelay, odelay, odelay, odelay |
| Just passin' through |
| Odelay, odelay, odelay, odelay |
| (Yaa) |
| Goin' back to Houston |
| (Yaa) |
| To the House Of Dance |
| Goin' back to Houston |
| (Yaa) |
| To get me some pants |