Lyrics:
THE HAND TO MILK MY LOVING
When's it gonna come, the hand to milk my loving?
Who's it gonna be and will he have some money?
Will we live on beans and dope and magazines?
Have I already met him in my stupid, stupid dreams?
Can I get closer to the fire?
Can I wake up now (I'm no longer tired)?
Can I take off the Art Garfunkel wig
And put on my Leif Garret pants?
If they still fit, maybe I can still dance
Send me a smile from wherever you are
Stop me wishing on those FM radio stars
Send a sign, so I know I'm not wasting time
Hanging out on streetcorners asking strangers the time