Nobody knows where they're going
Nobody knows where they're going
Nobody knows where they're going except me
I told poor Joan
You've been talking, you've been talking to you-know-who
And if you can talk to him, you can talk to me too
And Joan of Arc, she warned
The Lord has a lot of friends, and in the end
He'll probably forget he's met you before
Oh Charles, tell me about the end
You were there the day the music died, and
I'll be there the day it dies again
He said: A masterpiece belongs to the dead
There are microphones under your bed
And there's footage that will prove us both wrong
Can't you see?
Like Joshua kick-kick-kicked the king out of Jericho
I'm about to kick your ass up and down this street

Here I come, here I come, here I come, here I come
Here I come, here I come, here I come, here I come
Here I come, here I come, here I come, here I come, here I come
Here I come, here I come
Here I come, come, here I come, here I come, come, here I come
Here I come
Oh, oh
Oh, oh
Oh, oh

Here I come, here I come, here I come, here I come
Here I come, come, here I come, here I come, come, here I come
Here I come, come, here I come, here I come, come, here I come
Here I come, come, here I come, here I come, come, here I come
Here I come, come, here I come, here I come, come, here I come
Here I come, come, here I come, here I come, come, here I come
Here I come, come, here I come, here I come, come, here I come
Here I come, come, here I come, here I come, come, here I come
Here I come, come, here I come, here I come, come, here I come
Here I come, come, here I come, here I come, come, here I come
Here I come, come, here I come, here I come, come, here I come

I knew a man
He sat behind a desk that was a million feet wide
But he laid down his hammer and he died
I knew a man
Big and fat, born without arms or legs
Born to jump in the air and clap
He said: Hang me from a yo-yo or a rope
And I'll be hanging by my neck all the same
So too shall I reach Long Island City, one of these days
Can't you see? He said
The Sunday crowds are all my concubines and my enemies
But he too shall see Long Island City eventually
Maria cried out to me: You can either leave
Or you can stop playing that cowbell with your gun
So I say: Watch out, Long Island City, here I come
Like Charlamagne in Vietnam
Until I get home, I am not anyone
Long Island City, here I come
Like Charlamagne on the midnight bus
I have no idea where I'm going
Here I come